


A Girl in a Box

by jetreadsstuff



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Emotional Abuse, F/F, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Parental Abuse, Self Harm, What Have I Done, but she's dead at the beginning so don't worry about it, coping mechanism in fic form, don't even look at me, it's fade to black but they talk about that so fair warning, look at them they've got anxiety, mostly just a fucking trainwreck of angst, suicide of a character that's in one scene, there's fluff.....in there, well i fucked up a fluffy pairing is what i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetreadsstuff/pseuds/jetreadsstuff
Summary: Marceline and Bonnibel didn’t talk much....That is to say that Bonnibel’s “best friend” absolutely hated Marceline, and truth be told that Marceline was actually one-hundred percent okay with that.Or, how Bonnibel and Marceline actually started talking and found out they were both really cool people.





	1. The Acrobat and the Escape Artist

Marceline and Bonnibel didn’t talk much. That is to say, they weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t exactly enemies either. That is to say, they smiled at each other in the hallways, but didn’t wave. If there was a spot empty at Bonnibel’s table and nowhere else to sit, Marceline would sit, but she didn’t seek out the table. They sort of existed in spaces outside of each other, never quite meeting. That is to say that Bonnibel’s “best friend” absolutely hated Marceline, and truth be told that Marceline was actually one-hundred percent okay with that.

She was okay with the two of them exchanging dirty looks, with Bonnibel giving a slight obligated smirk when Alice threw an insult her way, okay with sometimes maybe directing part of her flipping the bird towards Bonnibel, grinning as she scowled. It wasn’t like they traveled in the same social circles anyway. She couldn’t picture Bonnibel hanging out in a gas station playing arcade games, nor could she picture herself joining choir, though the mere act of _trying_ to picture such things occupied her brain during boring maths lectures.

What she was _not_ okay with, however, was public humiliation at the hands of a girl that she hated, and a girl she didn’t _quite_ hate, but thought that if they were in the same clique they might actually get along. And that is precisely where our story begins.

Marceline was minding her own goddamned business in the school shower, washing off the horrors of gym class when the moment of peak ‘marcie has a shitty day’-ness hit. She reached for her clothes, for a towel, for anything, but there was nothing to be grasped at.

“Fuck,” she hissed. What on God’s green Earth was she supposed to do now? Call her dad and ask him to drop whatever he was doing to bring her clothes to school? Not in this life. Yes, she brings her phone in the shower, what of it? She glanced at the time on her phone. Class would let out in two minutes. Great. Perfect. She could just wait for the next period to start, for the halls to be emptied, except for the fact that she was one late slip away from detention, and her dad would not have that. She _had_ to make it to class. But how, exactly, was she planning to do that?

Her mind shifted almost immediately from the how to the _who_ of the situation, as she wondered what raging bitch could and would do this. Her mind came up with one answer and one answer only. Alice. Mother fucking. Kremp. Marceline peeled back the curtain to hopefully catch the perp, but the locker room was absolutely empty. On normal occasions, she would find this normal instead of utterly infuriating. As if Alice could sense her finishing her shower, a text appeared at the top of her notifs.

“ _How’s it goin’ Marcie? ;)_ ” it read. Marceline wished for at that moment the ability to throttle a text message. It was a message sent from Bonnibel’s phone, Marceline guessed, based on the fact that she had previously blocked Alice’s number.

“ _I don’t have time for your fucking games, Kremp, where are my clothes_?” Marceline typed back furiously.

“ _Relax. You can have them back!_ ” A beat of silence “ _after eighth period._ ”

“ _Listen you three headed hydra bitch, I’ve got a barely average GPA to maintain and if you and your goddamned lackey are going to get in the way of that, there will be hell to pay_.” Marceline sent ‘hell’ ‘to’ and ‘pay’ all in separate texts for extra emphasis.

“ _Oh! I’m so scared! ~sarcasm_ ” Marceline could practically see the eyeroll that accompanied the text.

“ _You had better be_ ” Marceline took a deep breath and considered the only glaring option that could get her out of this situation. And it wasn’t like it was a simple decision. I mean, a guy goes sprinting down the school corridor butt ass naked, he’s a legend. If a girl does it, it’s a political statement. Marceline wasn’t sure she wanted to be either but the sound of the bell releasing students from their classrooms gave her an adrenaline rush, also known as motivation in the strongest form. She sprinted from the shower thinking of the only thing she could: However this turned out, it would be one hell of a story.

* * *

 

Bonnie should definitely have anticipated an angry naked girl. That was pretty self explanatory to Alice’s plot. And so she had anticipated an angry naked Marceline Abadeer. She had not anticipated an angry naked Marceline Abadeer sprinting towards her with absolute white hot fury in her eyes.

“ALICE FUCKING KREMP!” she thundered, stopping so close to them that either one of them could count the scars running down her stomach and legs. Bonnie made a mental note to not count them. She looked instead to Alice, who’s face had drained of all color. Evidently, she was also not expecting the sprinting nor the shouting. Marceline continued, through gritted teeth, “give. me . back. my . motherfucking. Clothes.”

“I…..” Alice trailed off.

“Some of us have places to be, Kremp,” Marceline folded her arms.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alice lied. She, on this day, was a horrible liar.

“If you think I won’t lay your ass out while naked, you’ve got another thing coming,” Marceline was breathing heavily. She looked like she genuinely wanted to hit Alice with a car.

“Fine,” Alice snapped. She nodded towards Bonnibel, who, still in the highest form of shock, reached into her backpack, pulling out a large black lump of clothing. Marceline snatched it away as if it were composed of diamonds and not laundry.

“So you had an accomplice, huh?” Marceline sized up Bonnie for the millionth time, “I will not forget this.” And then she was stomping off.

“Wow.” Alice rolled her eyes.

“I have never seen her that mad,” Bonnie observed.

“I’ve seen her madder,” Alice shrugged, “but I have to admit, this one is going in the hall of fame, for sure.”

“Ah, yes, the hall of fame,” Bonnie rolled her eyes, “thanks for making me an accessory to your crime, by the way, on top of school stress, band stress and parent stress I could really use ‘Marceline is out to get you’ stress.”

“Oh, whatever, dude. You agreed it would be hilarious, and it was.” Alice pointed out.

“I’ve never seen her that angry,” Bonnie repeated.

“Are you coming or are we gonna just stand around here until the apocalypse hits?” Alice asked, more than just a little annoyed. Instead of answering, Bonnie just sighed and followed Alice down the hall, trying to ignore the way the look on Marceline’s face struck her with the rare emotion of guilt.

* * *

 

“And you just sprinted down the hall naked?” Finn asked.

“Yep. Not one square inch of clothing and I was so pissed off I actually found out firsthand why they call it seeing red,” Marceline answered.

“Fuckin’ incredible,” Finn shook his head.

“You should have seen the look on her face when I came running down the hall like a racehorse with a planned vengeance. I would pay money to have a photograph of that,” Marceline chuckled.

“Next time you get pranked by them, I’ll be standing to the wayside with a camera,” Finn laughed.

“Bet you would, _perv_ ,” Phoebe chimed in. Finn’s entire face, in response, turned as red as Phoebe’s hair.

“I _so_ did not mean it like that,” Finn defended.

“You kids out there making weird jokes in front of customers again?” Jake asked from the kitchen.

“Only a little,” Phoebe called.

“Alright, I would like to get my nachos today, guys,” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Patience!” Finn demanded.

“Yeah dude, it takes time to rifle through the bag and use only red chips because the customer has gone drunk with power,” Phoebe agreed.

“The red chips taste the best,” Marceline insisted.

“They all taste the same, Marce,” Phoebe argued.

“ _The best_ ,” Marceline repeated, an absurdly intense look on her face.

“You’re as bad as Finn with blue m&ms,” Phoebe groaned.

“Blue m&ms are mathematical!” Finn protested.

“Can you believe I ever dated him?” Phoebe rubbed her temples.

“For like, five seconds,” Marceline pointed out.

“Five weeks and three days,” Jake corrected, “I remember because those were the longest five weeks of my life. You should have seen it, Marcie, he would not shut up. Girlfriend this, girlfriend that, I’m surprised that Mom didn’t kick him out of the house by the end of it.”

“I was not that bad,” Finn argued.

“The 15 mixtapes I had to endure would argue with that. I mean, it was kind of adorable. Kind of. If you squint at it, watching your baby bro have his first lady friend,” Jake placed the plate of red nachos on the counter.

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn rolled his eyes, “that’ll be 5.55, Mar Mar.”

“Right. Yeah,” Marceline rifled through her bag, hunting for the crumpled up ten dollar bill that occupied her bag. She was going to have to clean out this trash heap one of these days, she noted. Her fingers found their way to the bill and she grinned in triumph as she snagged it.

“Here ya go. I’m surprised those jackasses didn’t take my money, too,” She said, handing the bill to Phoebe.

“Pheebs must protect her precious,” Phoebe said in a bad Gollum impression.

“Okay, now _I_ can’t believe I ever dated _her_ ,” Finn rolled his eyes, earning an elbow punch from Phoebe.

“What do you mean, jackasses?” Jake asked.

“Evil works in groups of two,” Marceline mumbled, “and Alice’s sidekick, Bonnibel, is a prime example of that.”

“Bonnibel? Alice? Oh my God,” Phoebe laughed.

“What? What’s so funny?” Marceline demanded.

“This whole time, the demon queen Alice Kremp and her evil sidekick have been Bonnie and Allie? Oh man,” Phoebe shook her head, still smirking.

“You’re talking about a girl, 5’2 at max, blonde hair and bucket fringe?” Finn asked.

“....Yeah?” Marceline raised her eyebrows.

“And her quote sidekick, dyed pink hair, brown eyes and like, bonkers tall?” Finn continued.

“Yeah?” Marceline echoed.

“We know ‘em,” Jake explained.

“What the hell,” Marceline narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah, Allie and Bonnie. They come in here all the fricken time. Order a plate of mini tacos, then sit in the corner bitching for like twenty minutes,” Finn gestured to the table in the corner, “I guess we never connected the dots because you always order to go and they seem so, I dunno, _nice_.”

“Bonnie’s tutoring me in algebra,” Phoebe chimed in.

“And you never figured out her best friend was Alice Kremp or the fact that she, oh, I dunno, hates your favorite customer’s guts?” Marceline scratched her arm. A nervous habit.

“We talk about algebra, not highschool drama. Between the integers and the improper fractions, we don’t have much room for gossiping. Not that I wouldn’t tune it all out if she _did_ talk about it anyway,” Phoebe pointed out.

“Unreal,” Marceline mumbled.

“Are you gonna take your shit and leave or do we need to get you a stool? We have a dinner rush coming up of four, maybe five people,” Jake pointed at his watch.

“Actually, I think I’d better stick around,” Marceline smirked.

“Good Lord in heaven here we go,” Jake groaned.

* * *

 

It actually didn’t take that long for Bonnibel and Alice to arrive, though it stretched into eternity as Marceline chowed down on nachos.When she saw the two in question enter the near empty restaurant, she heard Jake mumble something about how he’s not getting payed enough for these shenanigans. Alice, in turn, looked Marceline’s way and grimaced.

“Ah butts she’s here,” Bonnibel groaned.

“Bonnie, stay calm, she doesn’t own the place, and we’re gonna make sure she’s well aware of that,” Alice tented her fingers.

“Can’t we just leave her alone for once? Have a normal meal?” Bonnie asked.

“Absofuckinglutely not,” Alice answered, waltzing up to Marceline.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Marceline scowled.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alice asked, “This is our hangout. Unless you came here to take our order, you can get out.”

“I forgot you owned this place,” Marceline rolled her eyes. She was drumming her fingers on the table.

“We may not own this place, beeotch, but we’re friends with the employees. They have the right to refuse service to anyone, and in this case that means you,” Alice folded her arms.

“Well so am I, asshat,” Marceline retorted. Alice appeared to be slightly taken aback, but if she was, she hided it well behind a glare that could freeze hell over.

“Bonnie tutors Phoebe over there,” Alice pointed out.

“Yeah well you know the cook? I babysit his kids,” Marceline grinned. Alice huffed.

“Okay stop the piss measuring contest you’ve got going on over here,” Jake interrupted, hopping the counter.

“But Jake, she’s deliberately hanging out here to piss us off!” Alice accused, though she had just about zero proof to back up that statement.

“I come here every day, jackass, it’s just that I see the flying monkeys in the distance and I get out of here as soon as I can,” Marceline retorted.

“Okay!” Jake clapped his hands together, “we have established that neither of you has more of a right to be here than the other. So please, for the sake of my cardiac health, try to get along, or avoid each other, or something. Otherwise you are both out of here.”

“What?” Marceline demanded.

“You heard me. Now, Marce, you’re usually out of here before they even get here, so it shouldn’t even be that hard to avoid the two of them after school anyway, yeah?”

“Okay, yeah, true,” Marceline grumped.

“And there you have it, folks,” Jake said triumphantly.

“Do you smell something burning?” Bonnie asked.

“Oh shit my fajitas!” Jake panicked, racing towards the kitchen like his life depended on tiny bits of steak meat.

“Guess we all have to be civil, oh well,” Bonnie smiled.

“Don’t act so proud of yourself,” Alice rolled her eyes, “Imma go wash my hands, you get us a table.” She said, storming off.

“Yikes,” Marceline chuckled.

“At least you know she’s not gonna do something terrible again,” Bonnibel pointed out.

“True, true,” Marceline nodded. She wasn’t making eye contact with Bonnibel.

“For what it’s worth, I _am_ sorry. That whole prank got out of hand fast,” Bonnibel forced a small smile.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Just thank the lord that I made it to class on time. Plus the looks on your faces were _well_ worth the public humiliation.”

“Well, in that case…”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I was _kidding_ , Marceline.”

“Uh huh,” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bonnie smiled, “I do have to get us a table before her royal pain in the ass has a chance to mount us on the wall, so I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Count on it,” Marceline winked. Okay, so maybe she was right the first time around. Maybe Bonnibel wasn’t so bad, but they just traveled in different circles was all. Granted, Bonnie’s circle resembled one of Dante’s circles of hell, but she herself wasn’t nearly as unspeakably horrible as her companion.

* * *

 

“Streaking through the hallways Marceline? Really?” her father greeted her when he arrived home.

“They didn’t send me this semester’s updated dress code in the leaflet,” Marceline grumbled.

“Watch your fucking tone, Marceline,” Mr Abadeer snapped.

“Yes sir,” Marceline said, but she rolled her eyes all the same.

“What was even your thought process. Please, do share with me what short circuited in your brain and gave me a heart attack in the middle of work?” he crossed his arms.

“If it was so concerning, why didn’t you call me?” Marceline asked.

“Answer the fucking question.” he commanded.

“Alice Kremp and Bonnibel James stole my clothes while I was in the fucking shower. That good enough for an explanation?”

“So instead of waiting until there was an opportunity for you to leave without indecently exposing yourself to the entire student body, you decided instead to sprint down the hallway like it was some sort of senior prank?” He grimaced at the phrase ‘student body’.

“You were the one that told me that I would be disciplined indefinitely if I was late for that class one more time, and you’re blaming me?”

“Do not turn this around on me,” He said through clenched teeth.

“Sorry.”

“If you anticipated this would happen, and you did it anyway, you were absolutely not sorry.”

“Why are you acting like it was my fault that my clothes were stolen?”

“Why are you always acting like you can just do whatever the fuck you want and get away with it?” Marceline stayed silent. “Go to your room so I can think of what to do with you.”

“But I haven’t even eaten yet,” Marceline protested.

“ _Go. Now._ ” He commanded. Marceline jumped up and stomped off to her room. She slammed the door shut, despite her father’s constant demands to not do that. She was glad to be in her room, her own little cavern away from her dad. Clothes littered the floor and posters littered the walls. It was exactly what one would expect, entering Marceline Abadeer’s room. She flopped over onto the bed, the springs groaned in protest as they settled under her weight.

It seemed wrong to be relaxed in these conditions, knowing full well that soon she’d hear the distinct sound of her father stomping up the stairs. But if not now, then the opportunity to would slip through her fingers. She scratched at her arm.

“I’m coming up Marceline!” Her father warned. Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. She counted up her happy thoughts as she counted the pounding steps up to her room. _One._ Viola is learning how to write cursive. _Two._ Charlie can sing the alphabet in order now. _Three._ Junior is learning how to play ‘heart and soul on the piano. _Four._ uh…. _Five._ Marceline might be able to afford new boots soon. _Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen._

“Marceline!” her dad roared. The door swung open, slamming into wall. She always ran out of happy thoughts too soon under pressure.

“I was just gonna go to bed,” Marceline said, voice barely shaking.

“I don’t give a flying fuck! I go to work 50+ hours a week, I come home and the house looks like this? Do you have any idea whatsoever how hard I fucking work? And you pull shit like streaking through hallways, letting your grades slip, and leaving the house like a hurricane went through it?” On braver days, Marceline would argue that she cleaned a lot, just not enough to keep a decent sized house spotless by herself. Today, she just wanted to tune it out, so she did. All the shouting sounded the same anyway. The words bled together until it was just one clusterfuck of a rant.

“I’ll make sure that the house is spotless tomorrow,” she assured him.

“Oh, you had fucking better,” he seethed. He stormed out and slammed the door. _Click_. Marceline sighed and closed her eyes. She could relax now. See, he would scream bloody murder, send her off to her room with no dinner, and lock her in her bedroom, but that was usually to about the extent he went to. And despite herself, Marceline was thankful it wasn’t worse. It didn’t help much to think of it that way. Her eyes darted to the box in the corner of her room, and her wrist flicked. Yes, it was one of those nights.

* * *

 

Marceline awoke the next day to sunlight streaming in through the blinds and a pit sitting in the bottom of her chest. She scratched her leg instinctively and hissed at the pain it inflicted. _Oh, yeah_. She checked the time on her phone. It was seven. Perfect. If she got ready now she would make it to the bus right on time. She sprung out of bed and peeled off the long piece of fabric that wrapped around her leg.

Next things next, clothes. She made a mental note to wear extra deoderant and only wet her head at the showers at school. Red skinny jeans, black boots and a tank top tended to be her go-to outfit lately, slightly different variations on the same look, but she loved it nonetheless. She smiled at herself in the two-way mirror next to her closet door.

Finally, she was ready to head down to the kitchen. She headed for the door, lazily jimmying the door knob. Only, it wasn’t turning. _Fuck._ She noted that at seventeen-and-some-change years old, she was too old to have her doorknob lock from the outside. It did not help that the thing was industrial. Hunson Abadeer did not skimp on security.

Marceline jiggled the doorknob furiously. This had happened before. Hunson somehow forgot that he’d locked his daughter in her bedroom. He went off to work, minding his business, failing to realize the repercussions of his decision. Marceline looked towards the window. She could escape that way, of course, but her mind flashed with the memory of leaving her house keys in her back at the entryway. Fuck, and once again, fuck. If she left, she wouldn’t be able to get back in in time to clean the house anyway. There was no true way out of the situation.

Dad would arrive home more furious than ever, whisky on his breath from his wednesday night trip to the bar, and give her about ten more reasons to get the hell out of this town in one go. Defeated by her own logic, Marceline opened her laptop and sat on her bed. She would have to rely on the internet to get her through the day.

She first opened msngr and debated sending her father a message telling him he accidentally left her locked in her room. Not that it would make a difference to the long lecture she would receive when he got home. In fact, she could see it adding to the fire. She wouldn’t have been locked in her room if she hadn’t streaked through the school in the middle of the day, of course. And even that wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t need a shower after gym. It went farther and farther and farther back always until her father’s memories got blurry and he ran out of things to shout at her. She sighed, trying to ignore her stomach rumbling. Of course, she did come prepared with a pile of snack goods in her closet in case this happened, but those were for later in the day. Once she started eating them, she found it hard to stop, and she didn’t want to run out of snacks this early in the week.

She could….watch a movie. Yeah! She opened a new tab and went to her go-to streaming site, scanning the catalogue for possible movies or shows to watch. The categories seemed arbitrary, organizing everything seemingly by throwing a dart at a board where each section was labeled by a genre. _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ . Always a classic. Not really her ideal depression binge show, but she had already watched through _My Babysitter’s a Vampire_ more than three times this month, and she did not want to get sick of that show.

“ _You fucking left your kid locked in her room all day, asshole_.” She typed in the chat window. Delete, delete, delete.

* * *

 

Bonnibel almost had what would be considered a normal day. She got up and went to school like any other day, she listened to Alice go on and on about like a band she liked or something, faked her way through class, slugged through lunch and so on. Only thing missing from this normal day was Marceline. Marceline, who had become a school legend overnight. Marceline, who decided fuck it and ran down the hallway naked.

 _She cuts school sometimes_ , Bonnie reminded herself periodically throughout the day, _nothing weird about that_ . And it was true, Marceline was known to be absent from school, not at the hands of being sick mind you. But something felt so off about it, and Bonnie wasn’t sure she exactly wanted to figure out _why_ exactly it felt so strange.

She wouldn’t have even noticed it if she hadn’t seen so much of her the day before, both in reference to the actual amount of time she had spent around Marceline, and to, well, the other thing. Before that she hadn’t even been aware that so much of Marceline could even exist in her and Alice’s little world. Bonnie usually had one class with her, towards the end of the day, and one hallway glaring session between classes, but that was the extent of it.

Yesterday, she had seen her for a good five minutes in the hallway, and about thirty minutes at Guaco’s Tacos, not to mention an actual conversation with her. Bonnie wasn’t even sure that had ever happened before. She wasn’t even sure she minded the increase in seeing Allie’s quote worst enemy. And to have that much interaction with the girl one day and none at all the next was an odd juxtaposition.

She didn’t discount the idea that Marceline would stay home in embarrassment, except, whoops, that didn’t sound like Marceline at all. Marceline would show up not giving a shit fuck or a damn, flipping off anyone that made crude jokes her way and gladly retelling the story to over-excited freshmen who would eat up any stories they could get their hands on. She could be an absolute legend, if only she had bothered to show up at all.

Rumors were spreading like wildfires in tall grass, which also didn’t help the strangeness of the day. People were saying it was an epic senior prank on the dress code, that Marceline was making some kind of statement about the objectification of female bodies, yada yada yada. Trying to keep up with all the new rumors gave Bonnie one hell of a headache. She slugged through the rest of her day like a zombie, hardly even speaking until she made it through school and through choir practice, until she finally made it to Guaco’s Tacos.

“Bon, are you even listening?” Alice quirked an eyebrow. She tapped her foot impatiently. And Bonnie _had_ been listening-Alice had been very intensely talking about a new album release of one of her favorite bands-it was just that Bonnie’s mind was elsewhere.

“Uh, yeah, just in my head I guess,” Bonnie nodded, “very excited about the new album. It sounds like it’s gonna be awesome. Experimental.” she added.

“Bonnie, I asked you what you think sounds good today,” she gestured to the menu. It was worth mentioning that they were next in line, and Bonnibel hadn’t even been paying attention enough to realize how much they had moved since Bonnie had last been semi-alert.

“Oh! Uh, why don’t we do quesadillas, two large cokes with no ice, and, um, a churro?” She said the whole thing as if she was asking a question, as if guessing what she wanted to eat.

“Are you okay, Bonnie?” Alice squinted, “You’ve been weird all day.”

“Yeah, just….holy shit, the rumors. Freshmen are getting less creative by the year, I swear. I wish Marceline was there to dispel the rumors because that sure as hell would have stopped some strange questions being thrown my way.”

“Ugh, I know what you mean. An adorable little fourteen year old came up to me and asked ‘um, excuse me, is it true Marceline Abadeer ran up to you naked and shouted the words to _livin’ la vida loca_ ?’ I swear to God it took twenty years off my lifespan. Plus I’ve had that song on repeat in my head for the last four hours. Not the real version, Bee, the _Shrek 2_ version.”

“Good grief,” Bonnie laughed, “I just….why does everybody gossip about such things. Yeah, she ran down the hallway naked, and yeah, it was hilarious in hindsight but it’s probably a hell of a lot funnier without context, you know?” Alice nodded. They were now at the front.

“What can I get you guys,” Phoebe asked, a bored tone in her voice.

“Two quesadillas, two diet cokes, and two churros,” Alice answered.

“You do know that diet cokes are 50 cents more, right?" Phoebe asked.

“I don't even care at this point, diet cokes help me relax better than regular,” Alice rubbed her temples, “If it were legal I’d ask you for a dose of tylenol too.”

“Alas it is not, so just the quesadillas,” Phoebe snarked. She cracked her knuckles as she entered the order onto the keypad of the register, “anything else?”

“Well, I mean, this isn’t on the menu, but it’s not drugs either, so have any of you guys seen Marceline at all today?” Bonnibel asked.

“Actually no,” Finn blinked, “I just thought she skipped out on nachos today, which, I mean, is rare, but it happens. She wasn’t at school either?”

“No,” Alice answered, “I mean, like you said, she cuts class too. But to do both on the same day? I’m not like, worried about her or anything but it _is_ a little weird.”

“I have to have my parents babysit because she texted me ‘sorry, I can’t tonight. I have too much homework’ but….” Jake trailed off.

“None of this is making any sense,” Alice scratched her head.

“Marceline Abadeer is nothing if not an enigma,” Jake shrugged, trying not to let the overall bizarro vibe of the situation get to him.

“Um, yeah, hi, excuse me but you and your Marceline drama are holding up the fucking line,” a man shouted from behind them, thus ending their speculations on the girl’s whereabouts.

* * *

 

The girl that was the source of speculation was sleeping semi-soundly in her bed with _Buffy_ playing softly from her earbuds. She had fallen asleep some time during the silent episode, one of her all time favorite episodes, but it always made her sleepy. Her sleep was longer than she meant it to be, which was probably a good thing, and dialogue from the show found its way into her dreams.

Her peaceful, long nap came to an abrupt end, however as she heard the door to the garage slam shut loudly. Marceline sprung up and thanked her lucky stars that her dad didn’t practice what he preached, giving her enough of a warning to begin the process of freaking the fuck out. She heard him slam down his briefcase and take off his shoes. She, in turn, closed her laptop and quickly hid it between her mattresses.

“MARCELINE EVELIN ABADEER!” he shrieked as he stomped through each of the downstairs rooms. He was in the kitchen, she knew. _Slam! slam! Slam!_ The cabinets splintered under the force. If she had not been awake before, she sure would be now. Fuck, the house was still dirty. She couldn’t clean anything all day, but she still felt guilt wash over her. She had only heard her father this angry a handful of times before, but they never ended well for Marceline. What he was doing to the cabinets would be a cakewalk compared to what awaited his daughter.

The way she looked at it, she had two options. Stay here and get screamed at, grounded, ransacked, and god only knows what else, or she could get the fuck out of dodge and find a place to stay for the night. _But where?_ She wondered as she approached the window. She had only five contacts in her phone, one of which was her father. She scolded herself silently for not being more sociable.

Hunson reached the bottom of the stairs, and as she heard him grab onto the railing, she reminded herself to think only happy thoughts. _One_ . Bus tickets are half-priced this week. _Two_ . Mom used to grow currants in the backyard, and they would make jam together in the spring. _Three._ Nobody would hurt if she got out of town. _Four_ . Kim Kil Whan wants to go out for soccer. _Five_ . She’s unlocking the window. _Six_ . Mom’s lullaby. _Seven_ . the window flies open. _Eight._ She can hear her heart pounding in her ears. _Nine_ . She’s climbing out the window. _Ten_ . The boots she wants are on sale. _Eleven._ She slides down the roof. _Twelve._ She’s gone.

* * *

 

Bonnibel was sitting on the floor of her room, cross-legged, when it happened. She was painting her nails. She was watching _One Day at a Time_. Truth be told, it would be a normal evening if she wasn’t worried like hell about her best friend’s sort of enemy. She couldn’t lie, after the incident at Guaco’s, she had been having a mild ongoing panic attack. The whole interaction had been playing on repeat in her head all afternoon. How Marceline had not only missed her classes but her usually daily order of nachos. How she had lied to Jake and told him that she had so much homework.

And when she was on the floor painting her nails, recounting the scene for about the umpteenth time, her phone buzzed with a text, answering her question and confusing her all at once.

“ _I need your car, like now_.” It read.

“ _Who is this???_ ” Bonnibel asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

“ _Marceline Abadeer. I know this is out of the blue and you probably hate me, but I need you to meet me at the 7-11 off of eleventh fucking pronto. I promise I will explain everything later just H U R RY_.”

And Bonnie hauled ass, because I’m not sure about you, but when the girl who’s now a school legend at her best friends hands, went missing all day, and is now texting her of all people desperately for help? Bonnibel James doesn’t question. She just _goes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I am.....so sorry.  
> Someone take these poor children away from me  
> if you liked this PLEASE leave a comment. Kudos are also appreciated, and my Tumblr is moonsofmercury (i'm on hiatus but I'll be back next week)  
> And if you thought THIS chapter was angsty, i am,,,,,deeply sorry


	2. Burning Plastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Bonnibel is a short pit stop in Marceline's Long adventure

Marceline stood leaned against the wall. She’d been standing there for about ten minutes, trying to maintain her chill exterior while also having a massive panic attack. Trying, and failing. She stared at the conversation on her phone. She could not believe that she actually called Bonnibel James. Bonnibel fucking James, the best friend of Marceline’s worst nightmare. 

Well, that wasn’t true. Right now her worst nightmare was Bonnibel not coming and Hunson finding her first. The texts reeked of desperation, and Marceline couldn’t imagine the amounts of blackmail that awaited her. She silently scolded herself for not being sociable enough to have actual friends her age that could loan her a car, or even for her to just have a car herself. And that was when Bonnibel walked in. Marceline nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the bell atop the door ring. 

“Oh thank fuck,” Marceline sighed as Bonnie approached her.

“Alright. Now that I’m here, would you mind telling me why you needed me to drive out here to a random fuckass gas station?” Bonnibel’s brow was furrowed, but she had concern in her eyes.

“No talking. We need to get out of here,” Marceline said, grabbing Bonnibel’s wrist. Bonnie struggled to wriggle free, but she managed to break the grip. 

“I seem to recall you saying you would explain everything, Marceline,” Bonnie pointed out.

“And I am a woman of my word, it’s just that this is a horrible place to discuss the fucking soap opera that is my life. The short of it is I need a place to stay overnight and you’re one of the only two people I know with a license and a car,” Marceline explained impatiently. 

“I can’t drive with you in the car.We’re both seventeen, we’re not related, and I’ve only had my license for like two months. Like I need a ticket to  _ justify _ my parents being up my ass all the time,” Bonnie complained.

“And thank you, Miss James, for the lecture on the state driving laws,” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Look, do you want my help or not?” Bonnie asked, crossing her arms.

“I do, and I’ll drive, and I’ll explain everything later. We can discuss the blackmail and whatnot when we get to your place, and did I mention thank you, like, a lot, but we’re also on a major time crunch, so I need you to say okay, okay?” Marceline huffed.

A pause, a groan, a sigh.

“Okay,” Bonnibel said finally. And then they drove.

* * *

 

Bonnie’s house was about as nice as Marceline expected it to be. Ie: not a shithole. There were stained glass windows and clean white walls with silver trim. There was nice and expensive looking furniture. See, you expect a girl like Bonnibel James to have a nice friendly house. Girls like Alice Kremp? Girls like her either grow up in a mansion or a can of soup in the sewer.

“My room is downstairs,” Bonnibel explained, tossing her keys into the patented nice family hand-woven key basket, “around the corner in the kitchen is the door to the basement. Can’t miss it.” She seemed to be in a hurry despite the fact that they were out of the woods. Marceline was, at least. Nevertheless, she hauled ass to the kitchen and down the stairs. 

Her basement wasn’t finished, and it showed in how cold the air was down there. Marceline walked towards the door of what she hoped was Bonnie’s room, only to find herself face first with a spider, weaving a large web in the boiler room. She closed the door as quickly as she’d opened it and tried again, this time entering a parallel dimension where everything was pink and happy. The trim, the comforter, the collage hanging in the corner of the room, everything was pink. Marceline thought she might get nauseous from all the brightness of the happy color. That is, until her eyes gravitated to a purple trash bin in the corner of the room. Marceline found solace in the trash bin, it being as out of place in this room as she was. 

“Okay,” Bonnibel inhaled sharply, closing the bedroom door, “now you tell me what the hell is going on?”

“I suppose I  _ do _ owe it to you,” Marceline reasoned. Bonnie nodded. Her face almost immediately twisted from angered curiosity back to concern.

“Wait! Are you hungry? I didn’t grab any snacks at 7-11 but I could um…...I could….” Bonnibel trailed off.

“I guess I am pretty hungry, but I mean, it’s cool, I’m used to it,” Marceline scratched at her arm.

“The hell do you mean you’re used to it?” Bonnie’s face now read disgust and mild horror. She softened her gaze a bit when she saw how Marceline flinched at the question.

“Dad eats a lot of the snacks around the house,” Marceline shrugged, “sometimes he forgets to shop. That’s it.”

“That’s  _ it _ ?”

“Sorry there’s not that much backstory to me being hungry?” 

“No, I mean, that’s it? Like, you say that like it’s not a big deal,” Bonnibel’s eyes widened.

“Well, I mean, I sort of have a job. I buy my own snacks. It’s not like I’m left to starve to death or anything.” Another shrug.

“Okay, well, fuck that. I’m getting us something to eat. Mom and Dad won’t freak because I haven’t eaten dinner yet. But the thing is you can’t get any crumbs anywhere in my room. And we’re using disposable plates,” Bonnibel announced. 

“Sheesh, okay,” Marceline flopped over onto the bed, “may I remind you that I was not the one who insisted on cooking.”

“We eat first. Then you tell me what’s going on,” Bonnibel said, ignoring Marceline.

“Yeah, yeah,” Marceline rolled her eyes yet again. She was doing that a lot today, it seemed. 

* * *

 

“Okay, I didn’t know what you liked so I brought you a half peanut butter and jelly and half turkey and mayo sandwich. I mean the sandwich is cut in half, so no gross flavor combinations. Also I brought you a Sprite and a Mr Pibb, along with a handful of every kind of chip we have,” Bonnie looked out of breath from running down the stairs and maintaining plate balance.

“Have you ever heard of like, half assing something?” Marceline asked, “I think you could stand to half some asses.”

“Have  _ you  _ ever heard of thanking someone?” Bonnie shot back. 

“Right. Sorry. Thanks, you seriously didn’t have to,” Marceline smiled. 

“Oh but I did,” Bonnie said, laying down opposite of Marceline, “now then….”

“Right. Yeah, okay,” Marceline sighed, “basically the jist of it is I had a pretty big fight with my dad last night-holy shit this is delicious-and when I heard him thundering up the stairs for round two, I bounced.”

“That’s it?” Bonnie asked. 

“Listen Bon Bon, I’m not trying to get a social worker up my ass, thanks,” Marceline said, taking another bite of her sandwich. Bonnibel was silent for a while.

“Am I allowed to know what the fight was  _ about _ ?” Bonnie finally asked. 

“No way. Last thing I need is Alice getting a fuckton of new ammo against me,” Marceline sat up.

“You think I would tell her? I don’t even tell her stuff that happens in my own life, let alone the life of some random stranger,” Bonnie defended.

“Random stranger? Your best friend and I hate each other. I think that puts me a bit past the random stranger category.”

“Stop saying she’s my best friend,” Bonnie commanded.

“Why? You guys hang out together like constantly, not to mention that you helped her steal my clothes,” Marceline pointed out. A long beat of silence followed.

“She’s the only person that tolerates me,” Bonnie explained after a while, “and I guess I’m the only person that tolerates her. High school is horrible but it’s far worse when you don’t at least have someone to sit with you at lunch.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Sorry.” Bonnie worried her lip below her teeth. Marceline just sighed, laying back down. She stared at the ceiling, concentrating on it as if it were dusted with constellations. 

“Dad really wanted the house clean, but I was at Jake’s after school yesterday,” she said slowly, “he got home and was really mad. We had a screaming match over it. Then, he locked me in my room, but I guess he forgot about it or something. Went off to work. Guess what once again wasn’t clean by the time he got home.”

“Jesus Christ,” was all Bonnie could manage to say.

“It’s whatever I guess,” Marceline sighed.

“Has he…..” Bonnibel wanted to make sure she phrased this in the least invasive way possible, “Has your dad done that before? I mean, the locking you in there thing. Just leaving you in there all day?” Marceline slid to the edge of Bonnibel’s bed.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? This is like, top tier asshole parenting.”

“I’ve seen worse tiers.”

“Marceline,” Bonnie inhaled sharply, “You don’t have to tell me. I won’t get mad if you won’t say. But you have got to know that if you do say anything, it doesn’t leave this room. No judgement. I’m just a little concerned. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Marceline sighed, “I guess you could say I just…..I’m not used to concern for me. Throws you off.”

“People have been concerned for you before. Like a lot.”

“Oh yeah? I can name about fifty times that something bad coulda been happening to me and no one cared.”

“Really?” Bonnie raised her eyebrows.

“Ever notice me missing from school?” Marceline said, answering one question with another.

“Well, yeah. But I guess we just thought you stayed home…...I dunno, doing whatever it is that girls do when they ditch.”

“Rebellious teen cutting class?” Marceline fake gasped, “Yeah. Dad has the ultimate cover story to just leave me in my room for however long he fucking wants.”

“That’s really shitty of him.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s my own fault though. I get him all riled up. If I just maintained the house and didn’t act out at school, he wouldn’t have the chance to scream at me and lock me in there anyway. But, then again, I wouldn’t act out if he didn’t scream at me. It’s a vicious cycle, going back to….” Marceline trailed off. She shook her head and continued, “Anyway, point is, he’s a shitty dad. But I’m a shitty daughter. We’re not shitty people though. We’re just bad at family.”

“Being a shitty dad  _ makes _ him a shitty person,” Bonnie pointed out. Marceline hugged her knees.

“Hey now, I told you all that biz because I know you don’t know me enough to care. Don’t start, you know, getting care-y,” Marceline instructed.

“Right, okay,” Bonnie nodded.

“While we’re here though, do you have any dirty laundry you need to air?” Marceline asked, “No strings attached,” she added. 

“The closest person I have as a best friend is Alice Kremp or a pair of thirteen year olds who work at discount Taco Bell, my parents would rather I drop dead from stress than be a normal teenager, and I have Marceline Abadeer eating potato chips in my bed. And you know what the worst thing is? This is the highlight of my week, pal. That answer your question?”

“Okay, point taken,” Marceline yawned.

“Gonna knock out soon?” Bonnibel asked. 

“It’s like, nine pm,” Marceline stretched out her arms.

“You sound tired.”

“I’m  _ always _ tired,” Marceline pointed out, “it’s part of my charm.”

“When do I get to meet this charm of yours?” Bonnie asked. To which Marceline responded by flipping the bird at her. 

“If you’re lucky, never,” Marceline answered.

“Oh, obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl!” Bonnie fake gasped.

“You’ve seen _ The Breakfast Club _ ?”

“It’s only my favorite movie ever!”

“Okay, well, poor use of an awesome quote from an awesome movie.”

“How do you figure?” Bonnie asked.

“The next line is when Claire says ‘I’m not  _ that _ pristine’, and it works because she  _ is  _ pristine, but she loosens up over the movie. But  _ I _ was never pristine to begin with, and, well, it doesn’t get much looser than sprinting down the hall naked.”

“Say pristine again.”

“Pristine.”

“See, it’s stopped sounding like word, so your argument is void,” Bonnie argued.

“That’s like, the worst defence you could have against this argument. Even my dad argues better, and he’s one of the worst attorneys that’s ever walked this Earth. He’d never win a case if he wasn’t scary as all shit,” Marceline retorted.

“You think your dad is scary?” Bonnie asked.

“I meant  _ objectively _ .”

“Okay, well,  _ objectively _ , you think your dad is scary?”

“You’re missing the point of the argument.”

“We have all night to argue,” Bonnie pointed out.

“I’m tired.”

“You’re _ always _ tired, you said.”

“I’m  _ especially _ tired.” 

“Marceline-”

“Yes, okay!” Marceline finally shouted, “I think my dad is scary. He’s angry, impulsive, and irrational. And he works out, because he thinks it keeps him young. So, yes, I think that objectively, from a totally impartial standpoint, he’s scary. Are you satisfied?”

“Very.”

“If you think you’re breakfast clubbing me right now, you are dead wrong,” Marceline added. 

“What does that even mean?” Bonnie asked.

“That scene where they’re all sitting around inviting themselves into each other’s business and growing closer as friends. If that’s what you’re doing, you’re not.”

“Oh, believe me. If I wanted to breakfast club you, I’d breakfast club the shit out of you. But I’m just here to listen.”

“Okay, well, Dr Phil, you can dial it back.” Marceline stated flatly.

“Noted. But I would like to remind you that I backed off when you told me to back off.”

“Then what was the whole thing about ‘is your dad scary or not’?”

“You didn’t tell me to back off, did you?”

“Have you ever heard of reading the room, jackass?”

“Have  _ you _ ever heard of verbal communication?”

“What was the point of you asking the dad thing again, while we’re dodging questions?” Marceline demanded.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Too late, you were invasive first, so I’ve earned the right here.”

“The difference though is that I actually am telling you to back off and you’re not listening this time around.”

“Yeah, but the thing I’m asking you about is something you already invited yourself into my business about. Just saying. But okay, you  _ did  _ tell me to back off.”

“I just wanted to know that it’s not weird to be scared of your own parents. That’s it. But I guess you’re afraid of the idea of your dad rather than the man himself,” Bonnie explained, hiding her face behind a large stuffed bear.

“You shouldn’t be scared of your own parents,” Marceline said.

“Yeah, I got that. Thanks.”

“You  _ shouldn’t _ be scared of your own parents,” Marceline repeated.

“What are you trying to get at, here?”

“You shouldn’t be scared of your own parents. So it is weird. The people who are supposed to protect you shouldn’t scare you. But they do. And you are. And so am I. And so is everyone.”

“So it’s…..not weird?” Bonnibel furrowed her brow.

“It’s not,” Marceline confirmed, “but it should be. People should be furious that kids are scared of their own parents. But instead it’s seen as a lack of respect when they don’t. A bunch of stoned Catholics got it into everyone’s heads that fear is the heart of love, and the heart of respect, when it should be love is the heart of everything else. You get me?”

“Who’s Dr Phil now?” Bonnibel smirked.

“Last time I share any pearls of wisdom with you,” Marceline shook her head.

“You’re very right though. Cheesy as it is, you respect someone more when you love them then when you hate them. We should get like, a buncha stoned Priests to convince everyone that fear is really the heart of seething hatred.”

“How are we supposed to get a bunch of priests stoned?” 

“Donate edibles to the church?” Bonnie shrugged, “Seep it in through the vents?”

“You have the moral compass of a toilet with a magnetic needle in it.”

“That sounds like a Lana Del Rey lyric.”

“I…….Shut up.”

“No,” Bonnibel smiled. 

“I’ll give you one thing though, Bonnibel James, you are nothing if not interesting.”

“You don’t have to call me that.”

“That’s your name, genius.”

“Yeah, but, I always thought that if I managed to get friends, they would use nicknames. Alice calls me Bonnie and Bon Bon, Bunny, Bee, you name it. But it’s always like….sarcastic, I guess? Anyway, this is the closest I’ve come to having a friend, and you know, since you won’t be my friend after sunrise…..”

“Does that imply that we’re friends now?” Marceline asked.

“Sort of? It’s going back to normal tomorrow, but right now? I sort of feel like we’re friends.”

“You say ‘sort of’ way too much, Bee. Sort of this. Kind of that. Don’t you ever know anything for sure?”

“Not really,” Bee answered. She blinked. “Do you?”

“Well, I know the second that I turn eighteen, I’m getting the hell out of here. Gonna go live with some friends who live far away. I’ll get my GED, get a job, and probably marry a drug addict and have an unwanted daughter way too young, completing the cycle.”

“Jesus, dude.”

“A bad plan is better than no plan at all,” Marceline shrugged.

“See, I think the opposite way. I _ like  _ having my options open.”

“Well when you’ve got parents like the parents you’ve got, ‘keeping your options open’ is like giving in to their plan for you. You think that by not having plans you’re being a free spirit, but then by the time you turn eighteen you’ll think it wouldn’t be that bad to just do whatever your parents want you to. And then you’re my dad.”

“Then I’m your dad,” Bee repeated.

“Circle of life, bro.”

“Do you mind me asking what  _ you  _ would know about having parents like the ones I have?”

“Easy. My dad has these plans for me. He wants me to keep my head down, to study my ass off and get straight A’s, to keep the house clean as all fuck until I move out for college, to be a lawyer or a doctor and marry a lawyer and a doctor, and have lots of lawyer doctor babies. He wants me to live in a nice house and be successful and unhappy just so he never has to acknowledge how badly he fucked up in the process of raising me.”

“But you’re better than these plans right?”

“My dad is a lawyer who has a kid he didn’t want because  _ he _ wanted to impress  _ his  _ parents. And look at him. He’s an addict with horrible anger issues and a wife who couldn’t stick around long enough to impose her plans onto me. He’s miserable because he followed his dad’s plan, and he makes it my problem because he doesn’t want me to fuck up like he did.”

“Wow,” Bee managed, “so you’re gonna be unsuccessful and happy?”

“Ugh. That’s my ultimate goal in life. I get to be happy, and I get to fuck over my dad. It’s absolutely foolproof.”

“I’m gonna be honest. I like your logic.”

“Is my charming side as great as you hoped it to be?” Marceline asked.

“Well, it’s definitely more cynical than I thought It’d be, that’s for goddamned sure.”

“You know what I think?” 

“What?” 

“I think we just breakfast clubbed the effing shit out of each other,” Marceline yawned again. Bee laughed.

“You, madam, are a master of Breakfast clubbing someone.”

“Mmmmmm, breakfast.”

“It’s not even midnight, and you just had a sandwich, you weirdo.”

“I don’t think Anthony Michael Hall would approve to hear you talk like this. Breakfast is essential.”

“Shhh,” Bee said, “we can get breakfast in the morning. For now, you must sleep.” Marceline looked like she wanted to say something, but held herself back as a thud was heard from upstairs. “Shit,” Bee said, snapping out of the light daze she’d been in.

“Shit what?” Marceline asked. She shot up. 

“Mr. L is home,” Bee explained, “I thought he had checked out for the night before, but he wasn’t and now he’s gonna come down the stairs and check on me, find you, a stranger here, the girl who streaked in the halls here, and he is going to wake my parents up and they are going to kill us and stuff us in a freezer in Connecticut.”

“Why Connecticut?”

“Hide!” Bee commanded. 

“Where? I can’t fit under the bed,and the closet has beads instead of a door.”

“Hide in the boiler room!”

“There was a really big spider in there, I don’t know if-”

“What’s scarier? Sitting in a boiler room for five minutes or facing the wrath of your dad and my parents, who, by the way, sleep with a shotgun.”

“Boiler room it is then.” 

“Hurry!” Bee whisper shouted, ushering her through the door.

“Bonnibel James, I’m home!” Mr L announced from just outside the basement door. Bee dove into her room and closed the door as softly and carefully as she possibly could. She heard Mr L tiptoe down the stairs, and searched quickly for something to disguise herself as doing.

“Hello Mr L!” She shouted back.

“Please keep your voice down!” Mr L commanded loudly. He busted through the door like he knew that Bonnibel had a stowaway teenager hiding a mere two feet away from him, “Good evening, Bonnibel James.”

“Good evening, Mr Limsa,” Bee greeted.

“I trust that your homework for the evening was completed in due time,” Mr Limsa felt the edge of her bookshelf for dust.

“Yes, Mr Limsa. It is over there, on the desk,” she pointed to the stack of homework on her neat desk. 

“You point as if I do not know where the desk is,” Mr Limsa squinted.

“Well…..”

“I shall review your homework upstairs in the study to confirm it is acceptable. When I return, I expect you to be sleeping in bed. It is passed lights out.”

“I know, Mr Limsa,” Bee said.

“So why are the lights not out, Bonnibel James?” Mr Limsa shot back.

“Because I couldn’t sleep.” This was technically true.

“Would you like me to prepare you a late night snack rich in tryptophan?”

“No, thank you. I believe at this point I can fall asleep on my own.”

“I will be back in forty five minutes, done with the homework. I hope you understand the consequences if you are not asleep by then.”

“Yes, Mr. Limsa.”

“Goodnight, Bonnibel.”

“Goodnight,” Bee fake yawned. Mr L hmphed suspiciously and closed the door. When she was absolutely certain he was gone, she freed her friend.

“Jeez. If that spider laid eggs in my ear I’m suing Mr Salsa,” Marceline threatened. 

“Mr  _ Limsa _ ,” Bee corrected.

“Yeah, yeah,” Marceline rolled her eyes, “who the fudge  _ was _ that guy anyway?” 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Bee groaned.

“I’ve got time,” Marceline pointed out. 

“Okay,” Bee blew a strand of hair out of her face, “he’s kind of like the family assistant. He shops for us, makes schedules, helps me study, controls our sleep schedules-do you know those checklists the doctors have at checkups?”

“Yeah?” 

“He’s there to make sure we don’t have to lie to the doctor. We’re all healthy, we all get to stuff on time, it’s perfect.”

“You don’t _ sound _ perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, he knows where I’m at at all times. If he doesn’t, my parents go completely Liam Neeson in  _ Taken  _ on my ass.”

“Wow. He doesn’t like, let you chill every once in awhile?”

“Remember when I said Alice is the only one who tolerates me?” Bee asked.

“Yeah?”

“It’s because of  _ him _ . In fact, in a weird way, Alice is sort of like  _ his _ assistant. Makes sure that I don’t break the schedule. She gets like a sick kick out of making sure I consume my daily fibers.”

“ _ He _ sounds like a daily fiber.”

“Oh, he is. The only one he lets relax every once in awhile is my mom. And well, that’s because of….other reasons.”

“What kind of…...other reasons?” Marceline asked.

“C’mon dude. He knows when me and dad are both out of the house. He spends a lot of time making sure it stays that way.”

“Huh?” Marceline squinted. Bee sighed, “Oh! Oh……”

“Yeah,” Bee said, “They’re probably up there in the study, doing and getting God knows what all over my homework-”

“Ew! Continue.” Marceline interrupted.

“-and my dad, the poor, naive, trusting to anyone who isn’t his daughter bastard is sleeping soundly while his wife gets fucked six ways to sunday.”

“Two things. One, I’m never using the phrase six ways to Sunday ever again, Jesus.”

“And two?” Bee asked.

“How did you find this out?” Marceline asked. 

“Dad was on a business trip and I was staying over at Alice’s at the impolite suggestion of Mr Lemon ass, but I forgot my charger over here, so I came home…..kind of…….in the middle of the action.”

“What?”

“They didn’t see me, and I didn’t see anything that would scar me permanently, but. Um. Yeah.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Yeah. But he is right though, if I don’t stick to the schedule I’ll wind up seeing something I really don’t want to see. So it’s a small price to pay until I turn eighteen.”

“Are you….you know…..gonna tell your dad?”

“Yeah, great, Marceline, that’s brilliant. I should give him a stroke for his birthday.”

“What.”

“And like he’d believe me anyway. My word is the least important to him ever. Besides that, I’m not sure I even care that much. My dad’s a jackass, my mom’s a jackass, so why not let them live in their little jackass world. They’re happy. I’m supposed to care about that right?”

“I think it’s in the official not a shitty daughter handbook,” Marceline snarked.

“Yeah. Anyway, Dad thinks he’s happy because he’s got his cuban cigars and his billiards and his stupid fucking model cars, and shouting at his daughter when Mr Limsa doesn’t have the time to. And Mom’s happy screwing the modern equivalent of a butler, and I’m happy with my car and my tacos. We all stay out of each other’s way, so it works.”

“Your dad gets cuban cigars, your mom gets…...it on, and you get tacos? Doesn’t seem like that fair a deal.”

“Life’s not a fair deal. And Guaco’s Tacos are pretty great, to be fair.

“Well, yeah, but you’ve got Alice. And Alice is, objectively, a fiery bitch. Probably cancels the other things out.”

“Yes, definitely. But, well,” Bee worried her lip.

“But well what?” Marceline asked. Bee said nothing.  _ But I guess I have you now, right?  _ Bee’s mind asked. Her mouth remained clamped shut, afraid of the answer. What a silly thing to be afraid of, an answer.

“Marceline….” Bee trailed off.

“What?” Marceline cocked her head off to the side.

“What happens tomorrow when we see each other at school?” That seemed to be the better way to phrase it. 

“I…..” Marceline hesitated, “I don’t know. It’s better that way, though. We’ll wing it. Figure it out, y’know?”

“We’ll wing it,” Bee repeated. The edges of Bee’s knuckles brushed against Marceline’s. She could almost make out the fuzzy outline of an image in her head. An image of waving to Marceline in the halls. Of smiling at her. Of…..talking to her? Fuzzy, very fuzzy.

“Like two hours ago we sort of hated each other,” Marceline said.

“Shame, really.”

“Nah. I’m glad we found each other like this. I feel like this is more real than whatever bullshit daytime Alice Kremp’s minion Bonnibel had to throw at me.”

“I am not her  _ minion _ ,” Bee protested. 

“Dude, you kind of super are.”

“No way.” 

“Okay then, what’s another word for someone who does whatever another person says at the risk of their or a higher power’s punishment?”

Bee didn’t respond.

“Bee?”

“I have no other word for that so I said nothing.” Bee grumbled.

“Point is, I don’t like Bonnibel James. At all. She follows her schedule to a t, she hangs out with the Kremplin-”

“The Kremplin?”

“-A little nickname I’ve been workshopping-she never speaks her mind, and she wants two very horrible people to be happy.”

“Is there a point to this attack on my entire livelihood, Don Rickles?”

“Yes,” Marceline stood closer to Bee now. They would be face to face if Bee wasn’t a good six inches taller, “I like  _ Bee _ James. She hides delinquents in her boiler room. She rescues said delinquent from a 7 11 with no context. She calls her personal assistant Mr. Lemon ass. She dreams. I like her.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bee brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “that’s good. Because I happen to know that she likes you too.”

“Well I hope I get to see more of her.”

“Me too.”  _ CRASH! _

“What in hell was that?” 

“I think they’re done with the homework,” Bee shuddered, “we gotta haul ass to bed.”

“What about the boiler room?”

“I have enough stuffed animals that if we both lie very still, he’ll think you’re just an array of beanie babies. But he’s never gonna believe it if we don’t go now.”

“Array of Beanie Babies! New band name, I call it!”

“Gooooooooooo!”

* * *

 

Mr Limsa entered the room as quietly as he possibly could. He approached the bed, hoping that the sleeping girl would not wake up. Bonnibel had an arm around a large stuffed leopard that Mr James had gotten her for Christmas. All seemed to be well. Mr Limsa smiled at his work for the day, refusing to acknowledge that he had not ensured that she had flossed her teeth. On his way out, he grabbed the purple trash bin in the corner. The room was at peace.

Of course, as soon as the door closed, Bee’s eyes shot open. She peeled back the stuffed leopard from on top of Marceline, getting ready to tell her the coast was clear. But as she looked at Marceline, she realized that the girl had quickly been calmed to sleep.

Marceline snored softly, her chest rising and falling steadily. She was sleeping with her knees to her chest. Her brow was furrowed in worriment. Her messy ponytail draped over her chest as she slept, her hands tightly wound into fists as she slept, preparing her for the fight she knew was coming. And Bee wanted to tell her that there was no battle to ready for, that she was safe here, that she was with someone who would protect her. 

But she knew better than to whisper soft lies into someone’s ears, to send a temporary sense of security that one would need to shed the moment they stepped out of the shade and under the sunlight. So she watched as Marceline prepared for a battle that would never come, wanting to be protection, to be backup, to be anything. Marceline shivered while she slept. Bee resisted the urge to uncurl her fist to interlace their fingers, settling instead to snake her arm around Marceline’s waist, hoping it to be warmth enough to help her sleep just slightly sounder. 

Bee did not love her, no. Love was a word that bewildered and frightened Bee to no end. But a twisted, unfamiliar thought wrapped its way into Bee’s brain, slithering and nesting and raising a question that she wished it couldn’t. _ I could love you _ . The thought sent shivers down her spine. There was one thing in this world scarier than loving someone, and that was the gut-wrenching feeling of knowing that love is possible. That love could be. That if you played your cards right and said just the right things, you could capture love in a jar, in all it’s essence, flickering like a protesting lightning bug. 

That very thought ground her mind into dust that night, encompassing her in all the terror of what if. Bee didn’t get much sleep that night. 

* * *

 

When Bee fell into a restless loud sleep, she also fell into a heavy one. The question that she almost asked Marceline the night before hung heavy in her mind, only answering itself when she woke up fully. Marceline was gone, and the latch on the window was facing the wrong way. She was a girl always on the run, after all, and Bee was a mere pit stop in her long and amazing journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for ruining the phrase six ways to sunday


	3. Poison Oak and Itching Powder

Bee should have said hello to Marceline when they passed each other in the hall. She knew that much. But she didn’t say a single word. She didn’t wave, she didn’t smile, she didn’t even make direct eye contact. She tried not to scold herself too much, though, seeing as how Marceline seemed to be avoiding her gaze at all costs as well.

And besides, if she wanted to, like, stay friends, she wouldn’t have gone out the window before even saying goodbye, right? Or maybe she was just in a hurry to get to school? Maybe she was reading too much into this. She was currently making a schedule of Marceline’s regular bathroom breaks in order to avoid crossing paths with her all week so, scratch that, she was definitely reading too much into this. Even Alice would say so, and Alice was, well, Alice. Her plots against Marceline required the possession of an intense dislike and compassion in order for them to work that few others possessed. 

Maybe it was better this way. Marceline entered her life as a furious force to be reckoned with. She had remained a presence of constant disdain, coming at her full force, metaphorically (increasing her presence) and literally (re: charging towards her naked in the hall). Then last night, a miracle happened. Marceline had already exploded so there was nothing keeping her from fizzling out, becoming at least semi-dormant. For once she wasn’t so rough around the edges, fighting back against anything, anyone that would try to get too close to her. And now…..now she faded completely, leaving hair thin silhouette traces in Bee’s mind.

She suspected this to be exactly what Marceline wanted. To leave an impression, then fade away. Being a ghost was just as good as being a legend, she supposed. Despite this, talk of Marceline’s stunt had not exactly died down in two days, much to the dismay of Marceline and Bee. Rumors made their rounds through the school like a swarm of angry bees, hungry and hell-bent. Bee had to dodge freshmen all day, trying her best neither to confirm nor deny any facts for these leeches.

If she was careful enough and didn’t give them any gossip to thrive on, the rumors would fizzle out until finally Bee could enjoy her lunch break without getting asked a slew of increasingly bizarre and uncomfortable questions, ranging from whether it was actually an elaborate senior prank to questions about Bee’s own motives. She hoped they would fade, at least. And if she thought she was having a bad day? She couldn’t even possibly begin to imagine Marceline’s interrogations, as the star of the story. 

It didn’t help, either, that Bee’s mind kept drifting back to last night’s events, replaying her memories on a constant loop as Bee’s chest tightened to them.  _ “I like Bee James. She hides delinquents in her boiler room. She rescues said delinquent from a 7 11 with no context. She calls her personal assistant Mr. Lemon ass. She dreams. I like her.” I like Bee James. She likes Bee James. She likes me. _

“Bon Bon!” Alice waved a hand in front of her face, grounding her back into the real world. It was what she was best at and God, Bonnie hated her for it.

“What?” Bonnibel asked.

“We need to pick a new restaurant to eat at,” Alice said in her duh tone of voice.

“What’s wrong with Guaco’s?” Bee asked honestly, already knowing the reason.

“Marceline, duh,” Alice clarified, “Abadeer is getting on my last fucking nerve lately. And knowing she goes to our restaurant is the cherry on top of the shitty cake that is her presence in my life.”

“What about all that territory stuff, were you just full of it?” Bee raised an eyebrow. One night was spent with Marceline. One. And already she was picking up her mannerisms. Talking back to Alice wasn’t something she’d do in a million years, and yet.

“No I wasn’t full of it,” Alice said in a mocking tone, “I’m simply looking out for your best interest.”

“God,” Bee groaned, “you sound exactly like Mr Limsa.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Bee mumbled.

“Are you okay?” Alice cocked her head to the side, “You’re acting really weird.”

“How do you mean?” Bee asked.

“I mean like. You’re being extra sassy this morning. Are you feeling under the weather or something? You’re being extra apathetic to my Marceline revenge plots.”

“Oh! I’m just tired I guess. Didn’t get much sleep last night,” Bee explained, dawning an apologetic, albeit weak smile. 

“If you’re sure,” Alice squinted. If Bee concentrated hard enough, she could make herself see the good in Alice, convincing herself that the only reason she was making sure Bee was okay was friendly concern. But Alice wore her malevolence like a tiara, dawning her motives like a scepter. Alice picked at her fresh manicure. A very flashy and show-boaty scepter, at that. 

“If you say so, Bon,” Alice rolled her eyes and turned back to her list of restaurants. The list so far was only three items long, and all three were horrible options for either one of them.

“I just think…..maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go back to Guaco’s. Marceline doesn’t even go at the same time as us, maybe we could-”

“Wait. I see what’s happening here. You have a little crush on the cook at Guaco’s, don’t you?” Alice grinned. Funny, for a girl named Alice, she sure had a cheshire cat smile, and her eyes stared into Bee like the queen of hearts’. 

“That is…..entirely ridiculous,” Bee sputtered, though it was better Alice think she had a crush on Jake than on-

“Sure, uh-huh,” Alice winked.

“Why do you care anyway?” Bee huffed.

“Well, he’s eight years older than you and is married, for one thing,” Alice pointed out.

“The marriage thing doesn’t stop most people. Some people I know, even. Lucky for you, though, I have a moral backbone more than that of a jellyfish.”

“Jellyfish don’t have actual backbones, but I don’t think we can effectively argue the morality of sea creatures,” Alice argued.

“Point is,” Bee said loudly, “if I did have a crush on him, I’d never in a million years act on it. Even when I turn eighteen, the age gap would be just….creepy. Furthermore, I don’t have a crush on Jake, so you can take your little hypothesis and shove it up your butt.”

“You’re in a really bad mood,” Alice observed, “ I think you need to take a shit. Possibly two shits.”

“Okay,” Bee sighed, officially admitting defeat. 

“Okay like you’ve run out of steam or okay like you actually need to shit, coz if the latter we need to actually decide where we’re going so you don’t shut down the whole school,”

“Okay like I think we should get to-go at Guaco’s. If we run into Marceline then we jam out of there and enjoy our meal sans interruption.”

“Well,” Alice huffed, “I suppose that’s a good compromise. But if you’re late to band practice because you could not get your shit together, Mr Limsa is having your ass, not mine.”

“Deal,” Bee sighed again. And you know what? She actually hoped that they would run into Marceline at Guaco’s, but they didn’t. Not even a glimpse of her, nor a mention from their staff. And Bee tried not to be disappointed, she really, really did, but the image of Marceline’s smile wouldn’t fade from her mind. If she pushed the memories to the back of her mind, she could convince herself that nothing ever really even happened, that her encounter with Marceline was a dream. If only the lock on her window hadn’t faced the wrong way when she woke up, Bee’s heart wouldn’t ache like someone was trying to set it on fire from the inside.

* * *

 

Marceline blurred through her day, not sure of the who or the why of any rumors. She kept circulating gossip as vague as possible, hoping that it would cease by the end of the week. But life doesn’t work that way, does it? No, the rumors would follow her everywhere, and she’d live on, much to her dismay, to be an absolute school legend. Her legacy was set in stone whether she wanted it to be or not. And, at the moment, she most certainly did not.

She thanked her lucky stars that her next dad sighting would be delayed by a babysitting gig, and made a mental note to be extra nice to the kids. As she shut the door to her locker one final time for the day, her mind began to drift to a certain pink-haired lovely that she had been trying to not think about all day. This was silly. Bee had other stuff going on;too much to concern herself with the brief crossing of their paths. Still, Marceline couldn’t help but hope that the two of them were on their way to being cool. And that Alice Kremp was on her way to never fucking talking to Marceline again.

She sneered at the school as she left, thinking that the place was like if an US weekly became a high school instead of a magazine. It fed off of embarrassment and gossip, thriving on things that certain students would want nothing more than to forget. She scowled as a student glanced her direction and laughed. Marceline huffed and burst out the door, marking the end of just another shitty day at River Valley High. Imagine being literally so bored in your miserable little life that you have to count on other’s misery to get through the day. Utterly pathetic. 

She managed to walk the usual four blocks to Jake and Lady’s house on two hours of sleep as opposed to the usual five with only slight panting and crying. Marceline took a full five minutes of rest at the front door before knocking, as the knocking caused a terrible chain reaction of the door flying open and there being children behind it. But eventually she did have to face the real possibility of being taken down by an army of toddlers, and a muffled “it’s open” invited her in. 

“Marceline!” Lady greeted as she picked up the mangled remains of one of Charlie’s toys, “please, come in!” this invitation was followed by a herd of small children stampeding towards Marceline to greet her. She had four toddlers using her as a jungle gym and one using her as a teething toy. She loved these kids, she did, but she wished they would find a better way to greet her than literally climbing her. And damn, Charlie’s teeth were fucking sharp. 

“Beasties,” Marceline greeted back with a smile. One of her many affectionate nicknames for the children was calling them wild animals. Rest assured, her nicknames from them were just as bizarrely endearing. 

“Jake left early,” Lady sighed, “I may be later than expected. Macaroni and cheese is dinner tonight and make sure everyone is sleeping by….uhm. Eight. Yes, eight,” She nodded.

“Consider it done, Lady,” Marceline smiled.

“Kamsa-Hamnida!” Lady said cheerfully.

“Oh!” Marceline hesitated, “Hang on, I know this one….hmm. Chaman-heh-yo?”

“Your Korean is getting better all the time,” Lady smiled.

“After eight months, I’d sure hope so,” Marceline laughed.

“You have a lovely accent,” Lady added.

“Kamsa-Himnida.”

“Hamnida,” JJ corrected. JJ could be a know-it-all, but at least she was a cute one. 

“Right,” Marceline smiled again.

“I’ve gotta go,” Lady announced, glancing at the clock, “Na il ga!” She called out as she shut the door. 

“Okay!” Kim Kil Whan grinned, “Now we can actually have some fun without  eomma getting in the way.”

“Your eomma is a wonderful woman,” Marceline pointed out, “the only fun she gets in the way of is fun that could get you all killed. Subsequently it would get me killed because I was the idiot left in charge of you, and I’m not gonna die at the hands of an angry mother.”

“Fine, okay, you can stop now,” JJ rolled her eyes.

“But who wants to pour in the cheese when we make dinner, huh?” All five kids proceeded to scream. To a toddler, there are few things more exciting than an adult letting you do something that isn’t watching cartoons. Or, in this case, semi adult. And in this case, that something involved disgusting cheese powder. 

She wound up letting JJ do it because she was the first one to finish her homework, but let the rest of the kids stir just to keep things even. She always wanted to keep things even between the kids. One would not reach the end of the day thinking they were less loved than the other four. Not on Marceline’s watch, at least. She knew Lady and Jake would want it this way if they were there to helicopter over her.  

Deciding on something to watch was tougher. Everyone always wanted something different. There was JJ, with her love for cartoons, Kim Kil Whan with his Disney sitcoms, Viola with creepy movies that Marceline wasn’t exactly positive should be marketed to kids, Charlie and her superhero movies and TV with courage the cowardly dog and ONLY that for hours and hours on end. Marceline knew that making everyone happy was a near impossible feat, and a daring one at that. 

“Okay, okay, what about,” Marceline paused as she ran her thumb along the movie shelf, packed with months of solid television, “what about Frozen?”

“We watched that last week, idiot,” JJ pointed out.

“How to train your dragon?” Marceline tried again. She was responded to by a chorus of groans. 

“Okay,” Marceline clapped her hands together, “clearly we all have strong opinions on what to watch.”

“Well, yeah,” JJ agreed.

“So I’m giving you all the option to vote on what we’re watching,” Marceline grinned, though not the least bit enthusiastic about it.

“What happens when we all vote on our own thing?” JJ asked.

“Good question Jakey. The answer is that none of us are allowed to vote for our own choice, thereby making a five way tie near impossible. Whoever gets the most impartial votes wins,” Marceline explained. Another chorus of groans, “look, either we do this or we watch whatever I want to watch, and I know for a fact that you nerds ain’t in the mood for Vampire Academy.” Silence. 

And so they did take a vote, and Marceline sat in triumph as she watched what could only be described as her greatest horror, Bratz Fashion Pixies (Kim Kil Whan’s suggestion), and it was torture to sit through, but at least it was better than watching the kids argue about movies for another hour. A hollow victory was a victory nonetheless.

When the macaroni and cheese was finished, Marceline allowed herself to break exactly one of Jake and Lady’s many many rules, and that was to let the kids eat in the living room instead of the kitchen.  The kids were ecstatic, and despite herself, Marceline loved seeing their faces light up and their little bodies shake with enthusiasm. She wished that she could follow her own advice and not get attached to anybody.

The dreaded hour of bedtime too quickly arrived and with it, the task of getting all five kids in the same room at the same time for long enough for Marceline to get them tucked in. It usually took intense bribery and three people wound up crying by the end of it. Whether Marceline would be one of the ones crying was thus far unclear. 

“Alright, my little pack of wolves, you watched a couple of movies, you ate some macaroni, it was a highly successful evening. But all good things must come to an end, and as such it is time we put you down for the night,” Marceline said, trying to pry Charlie off of a barstool. The two year old clung with all her might, and Marceline grimly noted that she was ridiculously strong for someone her size. 

“No!” Charlie shrieked, “No! No! No!”

“Charlie,” Marceline forced a smile, “sweetheart, you need to go to the bedroom with all your brothers and sisters.”

“No!” Charlie protested.

“You need to be a big kid, okay?” Marceline sighed in irritance, “I believe you’re big enough to sleep with the big kids but you’ve gotta be brave.”

“Mmmm,” Charlie seemed to consider this, “Big kid?”

“Big kid,” Marceline echoed, “being a big kid means you’ve gotta not throw a fit and let me carry you to your crib, okay? You get to be the first one in the room. How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Charlie sniffed. She released her grip on the barstool and put her arms up in the air so Marceline could lift her. Marceline met face to face with Charlie and gave her a big, toothy grin.

“So brave! My little saja! Or…. I mean, my big strong saja,” Marceline smiled. She turned to the rest of the kids, “I’ll be back for the rest of my beasties in a minute. Until then, please regroup so I don’t come back to anarchy.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face and carried her brave Charlie up the stairs to the kid’s room. She turned on the baby monitor and told Charlie to wait a moment, and Charlie was only calmed by Marceline’s warm smile. As expected, however, she returned to absolute chaos. Shouting, running, there…..possibly a virgin sacrifice a la barbie going on in the corner there. (who in the fuck let these children watch cultist documentaries? Certainly not Marceline, she swears!)

“Did I say I wanted a wild rumpus, wild things?” Marceline rubbed her temples, “Did I?”

“No,” Kim Kil Whan answered.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I want you to be setting a good example for your little sister, okay?” 

“And?” Viola asked.

“And that means you all need to march upstairs, brush your teeth and get in bed so I can read you a story, and so your parents don’t kill me,” Marceline continued.

“Can’t we stay up a little longer?” TV whined.

“‘Fraid not. It’s already eight thirty five. The next person upstairs gets to pick what we watch on tv tomorrow,” Marceline suggested, and just like that Viola and Jake Junior were in a footrace to get upstairs.  Others, the ones who did not fear death, stayed behind to play the entertaining game of screaming until Marceline’s patience exploded out of her, never to be seen or heard from again. 

“What can I do to get you two in bed?” Marceline asked, “If you think I’m gonna bribe you I’m not that desperate but name your metaphorical price.”

“A kiss on the cheek?” TV asked.

“Really? That’s all it’ll take?” Marceline asked. 

“Yuh-huh, then I get to go to school tomorrow and say I got kissed by the second prettiest girl in the whole world!” TV beamed.

“Who’s the prettiest?” Marceline asked, a grin slowly taking over her face despite her silent protests.

“My eomma! But I can’t brag about that, coz I know some of the other kids don’t have mommas like I do. I don’t want them to get sad,” TV stared at his feet. 

“Good answer. And you’ve got yourself a deal, little dude,” Marceline smiled, pecking the boy on the cheek. He grinned and ran happily up the stairs, “Okay, Kim Kil Whan, you’re the last man standing. What can I bribe you with that won’t put a hole in my shoe fund?”

“Ice cream,” Kim Kil Whan suggested.

“Not this late, sweetie,” Marceline answered, “try again?”

“I pick the bedtime story?” 

“Deal,” Marceline nodded, “but your brother and sisters can’t know, okay?” 

“Okay,” Kim Kil Whan thought hard, “William wants a doll?” 

“Deal,” Marceline smiled, giving the boy a noogie, “I always did like that one.” 

And well, that’s about as smooth as a babysitting job can run, despite the chaos of it all. Marceline, after managing to tuck all five kids in without one escaping her clutches, settled into the recliner and fell asleep there. 

* * *

When Marceline finally crossed the threshold of the house, she let out a quiet sigh of relief upon realizing all the lights in the house were off. She was safe. For now, at least. She tiptoed up the stairs and made it to her room without so much as a slight creak. She was completely out of the woods. Or, so she thought. But as she turned on the light, she came to the horrific realization that her father was asleep in her desk chair, or had been, anyway, as his eyes shot open and darted across the room to see Marceline.

“Marceline,” he grunted, slowly standing up. His bones set off loud crackles that did little to calm Marceline’s now rattled nerves. 

“Dad,” Marceline stammered, “Jake and Lady kept me kind of late. I know I should have called but I really didn’t want to wake you up. I did text you though, that should count for something, right?”

“That damned window,” Hunson finally said, “would board it up if I could. Of course now, that would be a fire hazard.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that,” Marceline stared at her shoes.

“Just…..” Hunson hesitated, “Just promise me that you won’t go streaking through the school anymore. I’m too tired to think up a punishment right now.”

“I promise, dad,” Marceline wheezed.

“And you’d better study this week. Actually study,” he continued.

“Yes, dad,” Marceline nodded. 

“Whatever,” he grunted, “just be thankful that we’re entering the busy season at the firm, and I don’t have as much time to yell at you as I normally would.”

“I am,” Marceline mumbled. Hunson left without another word. So much for a strong father daughter bond. 

It was funny, Marceline knew that if she hadn’t snuck out, God only knows what her father would have done to her. But she had, and the smoke had cleared just enough for Marceline not to be beaten within an inch of her life. Living with dad was made up of mood swings, of not knowing whether Jekyll or Mr Hyde was going to be waiting for her at the top of the staircase. And as exhausting as that roll of the dice was, as jealous as it made Marceline to see Jake’s inseparable bund with his daughters, it was still always a good feeling to see Jekyll. 

She laid down and stared at the ceiling for a while, memories of the previous evening collecting like raindrops on spiderwebs. It was a surreal experience to get a glimpse of what Bonnibel James’s life was like without Alice, and Marceline couldn’t say she minded being a part of it. But that was a one time thing, a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was fun, but it was over. The two of them would go about their lives, eventually fading out of each other’s memories. She would become that one girl Alice hated to Bee and Bee would be Alice’s accomplice for all time. And Marceline was content with that. She really, really thought she was. 

* * *

 

Marceline stood in an open field of flowers, a vague figure standing across from her. She didn’t have to guess to know who it was, she always did. Upon the realization, she sprinted for the figure. But all of a sudden the flowers were made of sewing needles, and her foot was bleeding. Still, she ran, ran, ran towards the figure, hoping to reach it in time for…..something. 

But something weighed her down, pulling her towards the current. The figure faded and she suddenly had no idea what she was running towards, only that she was desperate. She tried to cry out, only for the air to catch in her lungs and the image of the open field be yanked from her mind as quickly as it had appeared, revealing only darkness in its place.

Underwater, she was underwater, and she could hear the sound of police sirens in the distance. She swam for her life, for whatever she was running towards, for whatever she was running from, but the surface kept getting farther away no matter how desperately she flailed her limbs. She was sinking, she realized, getting farther away from her destination the more she struggled. And then a hand was over her mouth. Then another grabbed at her nose. A third over her eyes. A fourth yanking at her hair. Every inch of her was violently grabbed at by a hand.

* * *

 

Marceline shot up in bed, gasping for air and heaving long breaths. She was in pitch-black darkness, and that darkness was closing in on her fast. Her chest was tight and water formed in her eyes. She needed to get to the figure. Marceline thrashed the sheets off her bed and rubbed violently at the back of her neck to shake the feeling of something holding onto her. There was nothing there, and yet Marceline’s skin tingled and her breath was caught. 

And then she stopped breathing for seconds at a time, drawing in long gasps, but no air managed to cling to her lungs. She was awake, but she didn’t feel it, and the fear of unreality was enough to swallow her whole. She scratched vigorously at her arm until she felt the trickle of blood on her arm. It stung like hell, but now she could breathe again. She was okay. It was okay. She took a deep breath and thudded her head against the wall.

Of course, if her father didn’t wake up shouting, it was the nightmares. Always the nightmares. Layered and suffocating, sending her into a panic until she managed to convince herself that what was around her was real. She looked at the clock. 3:13 am. She’d only been asleep for half an hour.

The nightmares were always there of course, looming at the edge of her mind. But lately they were getting worse. Maybe it was the wanderlust, the knowing that as soon as she left, her father would be all alone for the rest of his days. Maybe it was just old thoughts that she had buried finally catching up with her. Or maybe it was without rhyme or reason. Whatever it was, though, they were getting more consuming. Longer, scarier, closer together. Something, somewhere along the line, had gone wrong. And now she was a prisoner of her own subconscious.  

It made Marceline hate sleeping alone, but she had gotten far too old to sneak into her dad’s bed, not that he would welcome her anyway. Big girls don’t cry. But what other option did she have? Her eyes darted towards the window, an option rearing its ugly head. No. Not an option. Not yet. But sleeping pills scared her, and she couldn’t just not sleep. She closed her eyes and huffed.

There was a time that singing the lullaby could calm the nightmares enough for Marceline to sleep easier. Now the soft lullaby did nothing to affect the nightmares one way or the other, but at that point it had become routine. It was the only way she could sleep at all. So she gently rocked back and forth, squeaking out the words.

“Let’s go in the garden, you’ll find something waiting, right there where you left it lying upside down,” she sang. Funny how just a few hours ago she had sung it with a smile on her face, replaced now with a look of exasperation and panic. The song had a soft, soothing melody, and though Marceline always thought it was best sung by her mother, she still thought the song soothing and wonderful coming from her own lips. Despite her anxieties, she managed to lull herself to an uneasy sleep. 

Her brain was full of ghosts, ghosts that could only haunt her at night. Whether the confines of sleep put around her panic attacks were a good or bad thing, Marceline couldn’t decide. But at least during the day, she knew she couldn’t be haunted.

* * *

The two girls managed to make it through the rest of the week without falling into each other’s paths, much to the dismay of both of them. Saying hello crossed their minds many a time, but something was always in the way. Conflicting schedules, Alice Kremps, general anxieties. They were both grateful and irritated by these somethings.

Yes, the two of them stayed out of each other’s ways, trying not to say things like: “Bee what happened to your clothes” or “Marceline you look like you were hit with a bus”, you know, concerned friend stuff. But you couldn’t say concerned friend stuff if you weren’t friends. And their friendship’s end was marked by the end of that night, by Marceline watching the sunrise from the roof of the old gas station alone, by her slipping out without a single word, by them not making an effort at school.

Bee really did think that was the end of it, that they wouldn’t speak unless Alice had something planned and needed backup, that graduation would be the last time they saw each other. One day, Bee would sit alone, skimming through the yearbook, eyes catching only briefly on Marceline’s face and reminiscing on the night that could have been. 

That is, until Bee heard the soft tap of someone at the living room window. She nearly jumped out of her skin. Okay, that definitely was not thunder. Serial killers wouldn’t knock, right? She hoped not as she drew back the blinds, only to see Marceline on the other side, showing a sheepish smile when she caught Bee’s gaze. 

Bee, of course, being rational, rushed over to the door to let her creepy frienemy in. Her hands fumbled over her locks in a clumsy, nervous manner, but she managed to finally fling the door open.  

“What the jam, Marceline?” Bee asked, pulling her inside. The girl was sopping wet from the rain, sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floors. 

“I’m sorry, I should have called,” Marceline said quickly. She was apologetic, but she didn’t have anywhere else to go, so she silently hoped her charming-ness outweighed her jerk factor. Usually it didn’t.

“Yeah, you should have. Would have saved me from studying for another twenty minutes. What the hell? You don’t have a car...Did you freaking walk here?” Bee demanded. 

“Uh, kinda,” Marceline answered. What the hell kind of answer is that, Abadeer?

“Kinda?” Bee huffed. She was grateful to see Marceline, she really, really was, but now was a time for explanations, not mushy reunions.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear. The kids I babysit live four blocks down,” Marceline explained, “I walked from there. Not all the way from my house.” Okay, well, at least that was reassuring. 

“Okay, so why, exactly, are you showing up to my house at eleven o’clock at night when you know for a fact that my parents would have a field day if they found you here?”

“I can….go somewhere else,” Marceline added, “I have an aunt in the city. I’ll take the bus, I-”

“No, no,” Bee interrupted, “stay here, But just...explain, okay?”

“Okay,” Marceline sighed, “I know it’s ridiculous but I got a C on my math test and and I just...I guess I just didn’t want to wait around and see what my dad was gonna do about it. He’s always so strict about grades, and he’s been so stressed at work...I just thought it was better to be cautious.” Marceline’s face turned red. It really wasn’t a big deal.

“Have I mentioned that I think your dad is a rotting pile of garbage?” Bee asked.

“It’s come up,” Marceline laughed.

“Okay, well, it’s true,” Bee added.

“Are you sure it’s cool I stay here?” Marceline asked.

“100%. I just….” Bee trailed off.

“You just….” Marceline echoed

“Is this gonna be like, a regular thing?” Bee asked.

“Oh,” Marceline looked down, “it doesn’t have to be. I just...I  don’t have any friends to run to. Actually, most of my friends are like, fifteen. This is just easier. But if you ever get sick of me, say the word and I’ll go.”

“I’m not going to get sick of you, Marceline,” shut up, Bee. Shut up, before you say something stupid, “in case you haven’t noticed, I like you. You’re far less annoying than even my one actual friend.” Something stupid like that, stupid.

“Thanks,” Marceline said plainly, “I like you too.”

“Only till the sun comes up,” Bee mumbled.

“What?” Marceline asked. 

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Uh, my parents don’t get in till way late, if you want to watch a movie.”

“A movie sounds great,” Marceline smiled, interlacing her fingers with Bee’s. And Bee tried, she really did, to not fall into the fantasy of thinking she was anything other than a backup plan. Key word here: tried. But Marceline had a smile that could melt a steel beam, and as such, it could certainly melt a teenage girl. Oh, Bonnie, what have you gotten yourself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For referencial purposes:  
> JJ (Jake Junior)-six  
> TV-five (TV is a nickname of course)  
> Kim Kil Whan-four  
> Viola-Three  
> Charlie-two  
> Because I said so, that's why
> 
> Next chapter will be longer and uh.....way, way angstier so.....look forward to that  
> Peace out girl scouts, see you soon


	4. Chapter Fang (I mean Four)

The nightmares hit around three am. Marceline shifted slightly in her unease. She slept in the corner of Bonnibel’s bed, curled up as tightly as she possibly could get herself. Her breaths turned to hollow, deep hums, almost like purring. Bee couldn’t picture purring to be this unsettling, and when she woke up in Marceline’s almost violent fits, she found herself at first wondering if a demon had managed to enter her room.   
She knew it was dangerous to wake up someone who was having nightmares, she assumed so anyway. But she couldn’t just leave Marceline to have what appeared to be a panic attack, a violent one at that, could she? There wasn’t exactly a “right thing” to do here. What she did decide to do, however, she could not for the life of her explain the logic of.

Bee shuffled as close to the sleeping Marceline as she could without touching her. Bee peered over her, head propped up on her wrist. She could feel the shaky, uneven breaths escape Marceline. Bonnibel raised her other hand and, very hesitantly and slowly, began stroking Marceline’s hair. Lightly as she possibly could. Marceline let out something akin to a snort as she grimly accepted her fate of hair stroking. 

Her breaths drew in longer. Still muted and uneven, but longer. Bee chose to see this as a good sign. She then proceeded to begin humming as softly as she could, melody off key and song made completely up. After what seemed like hours of just humming, Marceline let out a sigh, evening her breaths to the sound of Bee’s tune. Breathing. She was finally breathing normally. 

Marceline reached behind herself and tugged at Bee’s arm. Bee let her glide it away from her hair. Marceline snuggled her arm closely to her, and Bee couldn’t help but find it at least a little endearing. She let out a defeated sigh as Marceline drooled a little bit on her wrist. And then she was. Smelling it? Okay, a little weird, Bee could admit. And then there was light gnawing. And then-

“OW!” Bee finally cried out, thusly ruining her prior plan of not waking Marceline up. 

“Wha…” Marceline mumbled. Her eyes fluttered, half lidded. When her gaze fell to Bee’s arm, they shot wide open. 

“Sorry,” Bee whispered, though she supposed that there was no need for whispering now. 

“You sorry?” Marceline snorted, sitting up in bed, “I bit your arm. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Bee said, examining her arm for infection in the darkness, “just like. I dunno. Why?”

“It’s an ADHD thing,” Marceline explained, “I mean, it doesn’t necessarily have to be ADHD. But it is for me. I mean, obviously. I don’t know what to do with my teeth. So I gnaw. Half my stuffed animals have cauliflower ears. Makes em punk rock.” 

Marceline snorted and Bee blinked. Her eyes looked glassy in the darkness, and almost a little eerie. Especially with the staring. 

“What?” Marceline quirked an eyebrow.

“Nothing I just...I never pictured Marceline Abadeer to have stuffed animals,” It was at this point that Marceline wished she could make a little more out of Bee’s expression. 

“That’s by intention. I’m not one of the cool kids, but I like to think I’m badass and mysterious,” Marceline snorted.

“Really? I just thought you were some goth dork who loves vampire movies,” Bee joked. A beat of silence, then “I’m kidding, Marceline, of course you’re badass and mysterious. Why do you think Alice is so threatened by you?”

“If I’m totally honest here I just thought she’s a bitch for the sake of being a bitch, and god knows what got me on her bad side,” Marceline answered.

“You shouldn’t call other girls bitches, Marceline, it gives guys permission to do it,” Bee pointed out.

“Okay, touche. But if you’re  _ going _ to call someone a bitch, then Alice Kremp is-”

“ _ Marceline _ .” 

“Okay, yeah,” Marceline agreed.

“So,” Bee sighed, “do you wanna go back to bed?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to fall back asleep after that whole fiasco. There is a limit to how many times in one night my blood pressure should rise,” Marceline thudded the back of her head against the wall.

“Me either. I think my wrist is throbbing,” Bee felt the divots in her arm. 

“I am so sorry,” Marceline scratched her arm raw. 

“Please, stop apologizing,” Bee commanded.

“Deal,” Marceline thudded her head against the wall. 

“So, uh…..those must be some pretty intense nightmares,” Bee scratched at the bite mark.

“Yeah,” Marceline inched away.

“Would it help you to talk about them?” Bee asked.

“No.” Marceline snapped.

“As long as you’re sure,” Bee sighed.

“And why the fuck would you care, exactly?” Marceline jerked her entire body to the side.

“Because….” Bee looked down, “...I guess I thought we were friends.”

“Oh,” Marceline kneaded at the palm of her hand. 

“But I guess then…” Bee trailed off, “what would make us friends, right? We never talk, oh, but you’re sleeping in my bed, but you climbed out the window before I could wake up, but you came back, but you’re treating me like a stranger again!”

“Bee, breathe,” Marceline reached a hand out in the darkness, and found Bee’s shoulder.

“We’re a little past being strangers. But if we’re not friends, either? What the hell are we? What are you doing to me?” Bee ignored the tears brewing in her eyes.

“Bee-”

“You didn’t have to talk about your nightmares. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, okay?” Bee huffed.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Marceline pet Bee’s hair, “okay? I’m sorry. I really am. You just wanted to make sure I was okay, and to tell you the truth…”

“To tell me the truth?”

“I don’t know if it would help to talk about them. I honestly have no clue. It could make it better or it could make it worse to talk about it. I don’t know, and that frustrates me,” Marceline closed her eyes, “I just don’t know.”

“You keep saying that,” Bee pointed out.

“I do. I’m sorry,” Marceline wiped tears from Bee’s eyes.

“You keep saying that, too,” Bee smiled into the palm of Marceline’s hand.

“I feel as if we’ve had this exact conversation before,” Marceline laughed.

“Yeah, well, we’re aboriginal people,” Bee laughed.

“Bee?”

“Yeah?”

“You are my friend. You’re probably the best friend that I’ve had in a long time.”

“Okay,” Bee sighed.

“But Bee?”

“Yeah, Marcie?”

“If we’re friends….why don’t we act like it?” 

“I don’t know,” Bee sighed, “apparently we’re both trainwrecks that don’t know how this whole friendship thing works.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe we should try a little harder at this whole friend thing, then one of us won’t get all stupid and angry over nothing.”

“One of us is you, right?”

“You bet,” Marceline encased Bee’s hands in her own. The sudden touch made Bee shiver. The touch was surprising, yet not unwelcome. 

“So, does this mean we’re gonna start hanging out in public?” Bee asked.

“I wish,” Marceline groaned, “I don’t want dad knowing where I could stay if I escape. It’s not like I could get away super quickly.”

“Good point,” Bee agreed, “so what exactly  _ would  _ trying harder entail?”

“Well, for one, I’m going to be texting you more often than to escape my shithole of a house,” Marceline listed. 

“That’s a start,” Bee hummed. And though they promised not to fall back asleep, Bee found peace in knowing where the two of them stood, Marceline falling into an easier sleep. Bee followed suit, resting on Marceline’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh jeez i forgot how much i love this fic and how easily ideas click when i write it. Gonna update again within the week, because I hace no self control.  
> go check on my progress and fic recs a plenty at https://cryptid-kogane.tumblr.com  
> go to my regular fandom sideblog https://moonsofmercury.tumblr.com


	5. Cowardly Lions

Marceline sleeping over became pretty routine after a while. Not that anyone was complaining. Some days, Marceline found herself sneaking out to see her even when her father didn’t make her life a living hell. Though, that was still rare to begin with. Marceline just...showed up at the door. And since they only hung out at night, it was usually when they talked about literally everything under the sun. 

Everything. From favorite movies to plans for the future, to babysitting stories and even the names of all of their stuffed animals. But there was one very specific thing that they did not talk about. That…….Was Marceline’s dreams. It wasn’t that Bee hadn’t tried to ask. But when she did attempt to ask, Marceline always got distant and cold about it. And honestly, Bee didn’t blame her. She left it alone after that, seeking frail comfort in the many weak “I’m fine”s that passed Marceline’s lips. 

When you let something like this fester, however, let it pollute your mind like a thick smaug, occupying your thoughts...it gets harder and harder to pretend you’re okay when your brain is falling apart.

See, before, the nightmares were contained to heavy breathing, to light thrashing. But slowly, slowly they seemed to be getting worse. Marceline would wake up unable to breathe, clawing at the bedspreads, at something, anything, to anchor herself back to reality. Eventually finding her own skin and clawing at it, convinced that to feel real pain was proof that the nightmare was over.

And Bee would hold her, stroking her hair and shushing her friend as she wept, as she wiped away spots of blood on Marceline’s arm on her comforter, as air finally found Marceline’s lungs again. Scars had run up and down Marceline’s arms, most self inflicted, some conscious, some primal, lines almost forming letters. A story left completely unread. Bee would lace her fingers with Marceline’s and kiss her hand. 

And after the nightmares, Marceline would have one of two moods. She would fall into a mood of talking about everything, conversations opening up endless gateways in her mind. Other times she would clench her jaw and get out of bed, sitting in the corner of the room. Sometimes she would even buy a laptop and write, the clack of the keys adding an eerie unsettle to the moods of these long outstretches of evenings. Tonight was the latter. 

Marceline wait until Bee finally fell asleep. Rather, pretended to sleep. She scratched at her wounds until they got worse, despite the fact that they didn’t even itch to begin with. Not physically, anyway.

And as a force of habit, Marceline couldn’t help but climb out the window as sunrise hit. She opened it with a loud shhhnk of the latch that caused goosebumps to rise on her skin no matter how used to it she was. And she’d take something every time as she headed for the wooden picket fence that Marceline found in her dreams on occasion. Not something that would be missed. A pine needle. A leaf of the big tree that stood in the corner.

On this day, she chose a pinecone that rested at the corner of the yard, lined against the gate, almost waiting for Marceline. She shoved it into her hoodie pocket, reaching her hand to the top of the splintered wood. She groaned as she pulled herself up, hitting her chin on the wood. The fence fought back, however, sending a tiny fragment of wood to stab into her, barely breaking skin but still drawing blood. She grunted, reaching her other hand up and gripping the wood. She pulled herself up, Chin still scraping against the wood. Marceline hissed and swung her legs over, making herself promise not to look back as she dropped. 

Marceline let out a sharp exhale, noting that her breath was visible in the morning frost. She made a break for the sidewalk, taking care not to ruin the flowers that lay in the garden. She jogged out of the cul-de-sac, finding her cheeks trying to keep warm in this barren cold. It was a lot easier to not think about returning when she was now too far away to walk back without her lungs collapsing…

At last, she reached the gas station that so often made her think of road trips to places far away from book reports and feelings and abusive fathers. This place was more of a home to her than her real home, how fucked up is that? She reached into her hoodie to secure that her wallet was still there. Not that she didn’t trust Bonnibel, but just that it was a force of habit at this point. 

The cashier smiled at her, with a look on concern soon replacing it. She pointed to her own chin and hissed, a telepathic message that Marceline’s fence wound was worse than she anticipated. At this revelation, she caught her reflection in one of the freezer doors. Yup, her chin was already turning slightly purple, her cut larger than she had first thought. Somehow it always hurt worse when you saw it. 

Marceline shrugged at the cashier and grabbed a cherry cola out of the fridge. Noting the cashier’s raised eyebrows, she snagged a pack of bandages as well. 

“Morning Marceline,” she said, boredom filling her voice despite her ever present concerned look. 

“Mornin’ Louise Sophia,” Marceline greeted back, smiling briefly before pain of outstretching her face overcame her. 

“What’s with the gash on your face?” Louise Sophia asked bluntly.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a gash,” Marceline chuckled. She paused, “Is it really that bad?”

“Girlfriend, you look like a cartoon saw went through your chin,” Louise Sophia answered.

“Thanks for sugar coating it,” Marceline rolled her eyes, “I, uh, I scraped my chin on a fence.”

“That explains almost nothing,” Louise Sophia pointed out. 

“I was climbing the fence,” Marceline explained.

“Why were you climbing a fence?” she asked.

“I was trying to get out of...a yard.”

“Wow, this story is riveting,” Louise Sophia drummed her fingers on the counter as she scanned Marceline’s items.

“That’s all you need to know,” Marceline retorted.

“Come on!” Louise Sophia looked offended, “who would I even tell?”

“You’d tell Phoebe. And the last thing I need is for her to know. She knows, then Finn knows, eventually it gets back to my dad,” Marceline huffed.

“What must it be like to live your life so full of concern and worry?” Louise Sophia sighed.

“It’s aight,” Marceline clicked her tongue, “can I go on the roof?”

“It insults me that you even have to ask anymore,” Louise shook her head. Marceline smiled and thanked her, heading out the door. She knew it wasn’t exactly the best idea to climb atop the roof of the pump station, but she also knew that the roof of this gas station happened to have the best view of the sunrise in the city. 

She gripped as tightly as she could to the pole as she climbed, knowing that her gloves only provided a little traction. She had something to show for her almost fruitless efforts however, as she finally reached the roof, and there she sat cross legged, triumphant in her climbing skills as always. The cool metal did little to help her warm up, and she was about to drink an ice cold beverage. The logic here was flawless.

Suddenly her phone buzzed, interrupting her tranquil freezing. She retrieved it quickly, determined to stop the infernal buzzing. A text notification greeted her...from Bee.

“ _ You left _ ,” It read. And the trouble with text is that it’s hard to read tone through it, even more so than in verbal conversation. Marceline read it as matter-of-factly, then as accusatory, then hurt. 

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Marceline texted back. She decided that whatever the intended tone was for Bee’s text, it was best to lighten the mood. Why she chose a juicy shot of her chin injury for this lightening of the mood was beyond even Marceline, “ _ Your fence bit me _ .”

“ _ Yeah it did. Jeez _ ,” Bee confirmed. Typing, typing, typing, “ _ I’ll take away its chew toys _ .”

“ _ Good. Now, why text me a matter of fact statement _ ?” Marceline asked.

“ _ Remember that thing that we talked about? About how you don’t always have to leave first thing in the morning _ ?”

“. _......yeah _ ?”

“ _ Well, uh, I’m not saying you HAVE to or anything or that I deserve an explanation but _ …”

Marceline didn’t type a response for a few minutes, searching for a suitable answer within herself. 

“ _ Force of habit I guess? I dunno. The longer I stay, the harder it gets to leave and not be around you all day _ .”

“ _ Oh _ .”

“ _ Oh _ ?”

“ _ Well….do you think maybe we should….hang out during the day? I know what you said about not getting caught, and nobody gets that more than I do. But there are times of day where Alice isn’t up my ass _ .”

“ _ There are _ ?”

“ _ Yeah. And even if there weren’t I’d still wanna spend time with you. In case you hadn’t noticed, I kinda like you….A lot _ .”

“ _ You’re gonna make me fall off this roof saying stuff like that _ !”

“ _ What??? _ ”

“ _ Nevermind. Anyway uhhhh I would LOVE to hang out with you during the day. But it’s not like I have much time to myself either. Unless you wanna tag along when I babysit Jake’s kids, or me you when you tutor Phoebe _ ”

“ _ Actually yeah _ ”

“ _? _ ”

_ “I know it’s lame and you wouldn’t have anything to do while we were there but uhm. I’m having a study session with Pheebs tomorrow afternoon.” _

_ “Oh.” _

_ “Totally optional, by the way.” _

_ “Nono! I’m there. Hanging out would be awesome, regardless of the circumstances.” _

_ “Yeah, it would. It really, really would.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest I've had this chapter near complete for all of december then....holidays.....got in......the way. Anyway happy new year and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!  
> I've been compiling songs that remind me of this fic and help me write it so uhhhhh here y'all go https://open.spotify.com/user/jetlistenstomusic/playlist/7s8U75sEsIjXBeZjSRtwLO


	6. Timberwolf

On the Wednesday the next week, the first thing Marceline did was look in front of the mirror in the corner of her bedroom. She didn’t much usually do this, but to be fair, she did have a good reason. That reason being the slowly healing gash on her chin. When she walked through the front door of her house sporting the gash, her father raised an eyebrow and she made up some lame excuse about how she walked by the soccer field after school and she got hit, falling towards the chain link fence. It wasn’t her best in the ways of excuses, but she was home on time and it wasn’t anything worse than the things her father did to her, so he shrugged and left it be.

She rubbed her chin, feeling the sting of the cut’s protestance to her disturbance. The gash was still bruised, giving her dark skin a deep purple tint at the chin. Marceline shrugged and walked towards the door, braving herself for something she dreaded; breakfast with her father. 

When she got to the dining room, her dad was sitting at the table making coffee for himself. She didn’t say a word to him as she grabbed a doctor pepper from the fridge and sat down next to him. He was the first to speak after an eternity of silence.

”Really, Marceline? You’re drinking soda for breakfast?” He looked disapproving, which was one of his wide variety of three total emotions.

“You’re drinking coffee for breakfast,” Marceline pointed out. 

”This is different. I need this in order to be productive,” Hunson retorted. 

”And I don’t need caffeine for productivity?” Marceline asked, “Besides, I paid for this box of sodas myself, and you always taught me how arguing with how another spends their money in practicality is admitting that you yourself are not practical.”

”Good advice, I stand by that,” Hunson took another sip of his coffee, “how’s the soccer injury?”

”Not bad, one of the fastest healing bruises I’ve ever had,” Marceline did not like her father’s false concern.

”Good,” he drummed his fingers on the counter and glanced at the clock.

”If you want to leave early for work, just leave,” Marceline huffed, “you don’t have to keep me entertained until I get ready for school.”

”First of all, I would watch that tone if I were you,” Hunson scolded, “second of all, I have an announcement to make before I leave.”

”An announcement?” Marceline asked.

”I’m going away for the weekend on a business conference in Nevada,” Hunson folded his hands.

”Does that mean I’m staying over at Lady and Jake’s?” Marceline asked, knowing the routine.

”No,” her father scratched his chin, “you are old enough, you can stay home for the weekend.”

”Really?” Marceline perked up.

”I trust that you will abide by rules I set out for you. No leaving the house at all. No inviting people over,” her father tacked off rules. 

”Sorry to interrupt, but I have plans this weekend,” Marceline braced herself for the worst response. 

”Plans? What plans exactly, Marceline?” Hunson furrowed his brow.

”I have to babysit for Jake and Lady,” Marceline explained, “I thought I told you?”

”I don’t remember,” Hunson said accusingly, “is there any way you could get out of it?”

”I doubt it. Jake works from six in the morning to nine at night and Lady works as well. I walk there all the time by myself, usually straight from school. I don’t see how this is any different.”

”It’s different, Marceline, because if something happens I will be halfway across the country.”

”what if I asked Finn over with me? He’s only a few blocks over, and he could make sure I get to their house safely.”

”Why can’t Finn babysit? Isn’t he about your age?”

”He’s fourteen, dad. Besides that, no he’s not. He’s not good at keeping other people out of trouble.”

”Well, then,” her father thought for a moment, “fine. But if I get any strange phone calls from police, you are going to be in worse trouble than you’ve ever been in before.”

“Yes sir,” Marceline sipped her drink. It was a while before one of them spoke again. 

“What do you do with all this time in the mornings, anyway?” her father asked as he dumped his leftover coffee in the sink.

”I keep myself busy,” Marceline said, heading up to her room with the soda can. She rushed to her bedroom and headed for her phone.

”Marceline?” A sleepy voice asked at the other end of the line.

”Yo Bee, guess who’s dad is out of town this weekend?” Marceline rifled through her closet.

”I’m guessing the same person who decided to call me at five in the morning?” Bee guessed.

”You are correct, madame,” Marceline grinned, “would you want to hang out this Saturday?”

”I don’t think I have anything on the itinerary,” Bee answered, “I do have to hang out with Alice, but I guess I could just tell her and my parents that I’m sick.”

”Awesome! Wanna meet up at the school?” Marceline asked. 

”Going to school on a Saturday is not something I would expect Marceline Abadeer to do at all,” Bee chuckled. 

”Hey, we might run into Alice at Guaco’s or something,” Marceline retorted.

”You know what? Good point.”

”You don’t think Mr Lemon Ass would be upset if you left in the middle of the day? Isn’t he up your ass 24/7?”

”He is, but he’s also a massive germaphobe,” Bee explained. 

”Excellent. 5 Oh, but one more thing,” Marceline scratched the back of her neck, “I do have to watch Lady and Jake’s kids.”

“I get to see Marceline in action as a babysitter?” Bee asked.

“Hey, smartass, it may not be that interesting but babysitting does pay off. Especially when I’m out of this hellhole I call a house.”

“Right, right,” a short pause, “it’s a date.”

* * *

 

Saturday, early in the morning, Marceline listened to her father lectured her about mundane rules on his way out the door. When she heard his car peeling out of the driveway, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had a little more time before she had to leave for the school, but she decided it would probably be better if she left a little early anyway. It was cold outside, but it wasn’t a long walk.

When she got to the school, Bee was sat outside, dressed in a winter coat and scarves piled high.

“Hey!” Bee greeted, standing up from the bench. 

“Hey!” Marceline echoed, hugging her friend. 

“Do you think that we have to get going right away?” Bee asked, looking around.

“You seem paranoid,” Marceline pointed out.

“Funny, because I am paranoid,” Bee said.

“I get it,” Marceline took Bee’s hand.

The two of them headed towards the house. When they got there, Marceline knocked her signature three rhythmic knocks. Lady was the one to answer, she presumed because Jake had already left for her long shift. 

Lady hugged Marceline and welcomed Bee before heading out quickly and mumbling something about how there was pizza money on the counter for them. 

“Marcie!” Jake jr shouted as she ran towards Marceline to give her a hug.

“Hey kiddo!” Marceline picked her up and swung her around.

“Who’s this?” Jake Jr asked, looking towards the tall girl with the pink hair band. 

“This is my friend, Bonnibel,” Marceline explained, “and this is my little partner in crime, Jake Jr.”

“You can call me Bee,” Bee smiled, extending a hand for Jake Jr. 

“You can call me Junior,” Jake Jr smiled, turning back towards Marceline, “Hey Marshmallow!”

“Yeah JJ?” Marceline asked, setting the kid down.

“Do you and Bee wanna come upstairs? We’re playing pirates in the kid room,” Jake Jr explained. 

“Well, what do you think, Bee?” Marceline asked. 

“That sounds like fun! I can help you guys hang up sheets above your bed to look like sails,” Bee suggested. 

“Cool!” Jake Jr said excitedly, “Carry me upstairs, Mar Mar?” 

“Sure!” Marceline agreed, lifting Jake Jr up.

“Is this the girl you’re always talking about?” Jake Jr asked. Marceline flushed. 

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Marceline admitted sheepishly.

“She’s really pretty,” Jake Jr remarked. 

“I know,” Marceline whispered at her. 9 Bee heard, but didn’t say anything.

* * *

After the day was done, after the boxes of cheese and pepperoni pizzas had been eaten, after the two liter of fruit punch had been drunk, after the pirates had elected Bonnibel their princess and the enemy pirates had kidnapped her and after she had bee rescued and returned to the ship, after the kids had been tucked in, Jake’s car pulled silently into the driveway.

“Bonnibel James? What a surprise!” Jake greeted. 

“Hi Jake, nice to see you,” Bee smiled.

“Did you help Marcie out or just keep her company?” Jake asked, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

“She helped. Jake Jr invited her to play pirates with us, and they made her the princess,” Marceline explained.

“A princess? Sounds like you were a real hit with my kids. Lemme see if I can rustle up a few extra bucks for the pirate princess,” Jake winked.

“Oh, no no, I don’t deserve it, it was mostly Marceline that helped. I just hoisted the main sail, is all,” Bee deflected him. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Jake shook his head, handing each of them a twenty.

“Thanks Jake, see you on Monday during lunch,” Marceline said, hugging the chef. 

“No sweat! Thanks for being such great pirates,” he chuckled.

“Oh shit!” Bee exclaimed as she looked towards the clock. 

“What is it?” Marceline asked. 

“I’ve gotta go. Thanks for hanging out with me, Marcie,” Bee ran out the door without another word. 

* * *

 

Bee climbed the fence, careful not to let it bite her. She swung her legs over the fence and dropped into her backyard. She quickly rushed towards the shaft of her window and slid in through. She shut it behind her, quickly changing back into her pajamas and fidgeting around in the darkness for her light switch. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t. 

“Finally home,dear?” Her mother asked through gritted teeth as she sat in Bee’s chair.

“Mom, I can explain,” Bee quickly said. 

“You can explain why you snuck out all day and expected your parents not to notice?” Mrs James seethed. 

“I’m sorry,” Bee looked down. 

“Oh you are going to be,” her mother stood up and walked towards her, “We give you a set of rules, a set of standards, and the second you get the chance, you break those rules. You lied to me, you lied to your father. You snuck out of the house, Bonnibel!”

“Only because you don’t let me do normal things like hang out with my friends,” Bee pointed out, not lifting her head.

“What did you just say to me?” Mrs James demanded, “You have Alice, and Alice respects our rules.”

“I have other friends, mother,” Bee said softly. 

“You don’t need friends!” she yelled, “You don’t have time for friends who don’t abide by your schedule.”

“You mean your schedule,” Bee finally looked at her mother. Her head was heavier than before.

“Do not make this about me! 9 You keep shit company on your own, that’s why you need me. I was worried sick all day!”

“You mean you took a break from screwing Mr Limsa long enough to pay attention to your daughter for once?” Bee demanded. Her mother’s face twitched as she raised a hand and struck Bonnibel across the cheek. Hard.

“You wanna get out of the house, bitch?” Her mother growled as she grabbed Bee’s wrist so hard she thought it might snap, yanking it hard enough to pull Bee against her will. Bee was dragged up the stairs and through the kitchen. Mrs James opened the back door and pushed Bee out, watching as her daughter fell onto the patio with a dull thud. 

“Sleep outside if you hate this damn house so much!” Her mother shrieked, sliding the door back into place and locking it. Bee pulled herself to her feet and pounded on the door. Her parents just watched, glaring at her. Bee’s hands were shaking as she slid down, tears of anger streaking her face. 

Long after she had stopped sobbing, her parents finally headed upstairs to go to bed. She waited. After long enough for her parents to fall asleep, she headed for the window shaft of her bedroom. This time, though, her window was locked. Bee resisted the urge to punch the glass. She had to get out of there. She had to. So she took a rock and thrust it through her bedroom window, making a hole big enough for her arm to fit through. Shards poked through her skin as she unlocked the window, but she was in. As slowly and carefully as she could, she made her way upstairs and snatched her car keys. 

The noise of her car starting was enough to wake her parents, but she was gone before they reached the driveway.

* * *

Four am. That’s when Marceline heard the doorbell ring throughout the house. She had been sleeping, for the first time in a long time, peacefully. Marceline got out of bed and pulled down the sleeves of her sleeping shirt.

When she answered the door, she was shocked to see Bee standing in her pajamas with her cheeks puffed up and her arms bloody. 

“Bee, what the hell happened to you?” Marceline asked. The question was enough to send Bee into hysteric sobbing. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.”

Bee slid her arms around Marceline in a hug. Marceline could feel Bee’s heart beat. Bee rested her head on top of Marceline’s.

“You wanna go for a walk?” Marceline asked. Bee just nodded. The two of them headed to the gas station, the same very gas station that first began their friendship what seemed like years ago. Neither of them spoke on the walk over. Marceline walked in, and Louise Sophia was fortunately working the register. 

“You look tired,” Louise Sophia remarked. 

“I am tired,” Marceline shot back, sliding two sodas over the counter and a five dollar bill.

“You’re never gonna be able to leave this shit town if you keep spending all your money talking to me,” Louise Sophia pointed out, “though I am pretty great.”

“You are,” Marceline agreed, “can I go up on the roof?” 

“What did I say about asking?” Louise Sophia smiled.

“Thanks, LS,” Marceline smiled back.

“Just tell your friend there to be careful, alright?” Louise Sophia asked. 

“Will do,” Marceline nodded. She walked out the door with the sodas in hand, offering one for Bee.

“Thanks, but I don’t drink soda before noon,” Bee waved her off.

“There’s a lot of things you didn’t do before I came crashing into your life,” Marceline pointed out, shoving the soda in Bee’s face. Finally, she took it.

“Like what?” She asked. 

“Like climb the pump station and sit on the roof,” she gestured.

“No way in hell I’m doing that,” Bee shook her head.

“It’s not as tall as it looks,” Marceline assured her.

“I am positive that isn’t true,” Bee folded her arms.

“I won’t let you fall, I promise,” Marceline held her hand.

“You promise?” Bee worried her lip. 

“Promise.” Marceline nodded, nudging Bee towards the pump. Bee took a deep breath and climbed the metal pole, struggling all the way. Once she was safely at the top, Marceline followed.

“The sunrise from here is so beautiful,” Marceline looked towards Bee, “you’ll see.”

“Marcie…” Bee closed her eyes, “I don’t know if I can go back home.”

“What happened?” Marceline asked, scooting towards Bee.

“My mom found out I snuck out. She slapped me and then shoved me in the backyard. I’ve only seen her angry enough to hit me a couple of times.”

“Oh, Bee,” Marceline reached for Bee’s hand.

“I’m sorry that I came to your house at four am,” Bee sniffled, “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay,” Marceline turned Bee’s face to look at her, “you can stay at my house until Monday night, when my dad gets back. Maybe by then, your parents will have cooled off.”

“My parents aren’t like yours, Marceline,” Bee looked away and hugged her knees, “they never forget, ever.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Marceline tried to comfort her.

“How can you say that?” Bee’s voice cracked.

“Because…” Marceline sighed, “because it has to work out. It will.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Bee asked. Marceline didn’t know what to say.

“It...it’ll be okay because we have each other. I’ll take care of you. No matter what. I promise,” Marceline looked down, and Bee’s hand was stroking hers.

“Have I ever told you that you are my guardian angel?” Bee asked softly.

“It may have come up,” Marceline smiled. 

“Marcie,” Bee looked at Marceline.

“Yeah?” Marceline looked into Bee’s deep brown eyes. Bee worried her lip and sighed, slowly leaning forward. She tilted Marceline’s chin up and kissed her softly. It was like going home, if home was a person. Marceline felt herself wrapping her hands around Bee’s waist as the sun rose over the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was worth the wait! After recovering a new charger i am now officially back on schedule! thank you for all the lovely comments on my update, I could never have gotten back on schedule if it wasn't for your support <3   
> writeblr: https://cryptid-kogane.tumblr.com  
> artblr: https://sunsofsaturn.tumblr.com


	7. And then the wolves came

They talked all day in Marceline’s living room. They didn’t seem to need sleep, and they didn’t miss it. It was strange, for Bee, being in Marceline’s house. Funny how you can imagine something so many times and the reality be just a little bit off. 

“I still don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do,” Bee sighed. 

“Do you have anybody who you could stay with?” Marceline asked, stroking her hair.

“No. I was an only child, so were my parents. And my grandparents passed away a long time ago. Not that I think any relatives that I would have would be any more understanding than mine,” Bee explained. 

“This is so shitty,” Marceline said, dragging her hands across her face.

“We’ve gotten through shittier things,” Bee said.

“Be that as it may,” Marceline folded her arms. 

“I just don’t even know what I’m going to do,” Bee looked at her, “what’s the maddest you’ve ever seen your dad?” 

“Well,” Marceline sat down, “it was right after my mom ki...died. He was so angry at her all the time. I don’t think I remember seeing him smile for long after that. I think he’s still angry at her.”

“Why would he be angry at her for dying?” Bee blinked. Marceline stared at her in silence for a long time after that.

“My mother killed herself, Bee,” Marceline admitted.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Bee looked down. 

“I think I’m angry at her a lot of the time, too. I was six years old. I can’t even ask her why she did it. I think if I could, I’d ask her about a million questions. But dad’s been more angry than sad. I think that’s the difference.”

“We’ve never talked about that,” Bee said, taking Marceline’s hand.

“Yeah, well,” Marceline half laughed, “I make it pretty damn hard for people to get close to me.”

“What makes me so special?” Bee asked.

“You make me want to tell the truth to people. To get better. To BE better,” Marceline said, “cheesy as that sounds.”

“Feelings aren’t cheesy, Marcie,” Bee rested her head on the back of Marceline’s shoulder.

“I’ll tell you when I don’t feel like I need to lie down every time I vent,” Marceline folded her arms again. 

“Maybe that’s a sign you need to let more out,” Bee said.

“Have I told you that I don’t even remember what my mom looked like? I see her in pictures, but I don’t recognize her. She’s like a stranger.”

“Marcie….”

“I think we could both use some sleep,” Marceline forced a yawn. 

“Okay,” Bee said. And she held Marceline’s face in her hands. 

* * *

They slept the whole night. Any nightmares that Marceline had were washed away remnants by the time they woke up. Bee was awake first. She was at first, startled at her own surroundings. Marceline’s room was so completely different from Bee’s. To begin with, the walls were completely unpainted. Posters scattered across the walls and clothes all over the floor. Her room was pretty generic. Sure did feel a hell of a lot better than being in her own home, surrounded by all that pink and waiting around to mess up enough to get in trouble.

Bee realized in this moment that her phone was back home, probably in Dad’s desk in the study. Or, you know, worse. God only knows how many messages and voicemails Alice Kremp had left. She, at this time, really did not want to know. Alice was a demon for another day. And she was probably about the least of Bonnibel’s problems right about now. 

Marceline woke up next, not even realizing that she had been awake at first. She looked around and saw Bee, curled up into Marceline’s bed, slowly breathing.

She realized she’d been staring about the same time she realized that Bee had been staring back at her for God knows how long. Bee, in this moment, was completely serene, and Marceline knew that now it was alright, that now she could lean in and kiss her. But she didn’t. 

“Is something wrong?” Bee must have been concerned with how Marceline’s face twisted. 

“No,” Marceline hummed. She brushed a lock of hair out of Bee’s face, “Go back to sleep, okay?”   
“Okay,” Bee yawned and closed her eyes once more,  “five more minutes, okay? Then wake me up.”

* * *

 

When the two of them finally did wake up, it was an odd juxtaposition. The two of them had slept next to each other many times. It was one thing to go to bed next to each other, it was another entirely to wake up like that. Marceline was awake first, and she kissed Bonniebel on the shoulder before getting up and walking downstairs. 

Bee woke up without Marceline, not something that she wasn’t used to. But this time she knew Marcie hadn’t escaped and run away. Marceline was always running. Not just from Bee. Bee had a feeling that she had a lot that she wanted to get away from. Her own dreams, for instance. 

Bee walked downstairs to find Marceline making food in the kitchen. Bee wasn’t exactly sure what she thought she should have been expecting Marceline’s kitchen to look like, but it wasn’t this. Her kitchen was really nice. About as nice as Bee’s, in fact. Her whole house was nice, really. It was all put together. You’d never expect Marceline to live in a house like this. 

Marceline was making toaster waffles of the chocolate chip variety. She was wearing an oversized tee shirt like a nightgown. Bee had been wearing one of Marceline’s tank tops and sweat pants. Neither of them fit very well because Bee was around six inches taller than Marceline. 

“Hey,” Bee said, alerting Marceline to her presence.

“Hi,” Marceline responded, not looking up, “how did you sleep?”

“Really well. I didn’t have to worry about Mr Limsa discovering a teenage stowaway in my bedroom and grounding me for life,” Bee said, “how about you?”

“Same old, same old,” Marceline shrugged, “are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Bee responded.

“Sit at the table. I’ll bring waffles and syrup to you asap.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bee asked, taking a seat.

“Fine. Just. My nightmares were different. Not what they’re normally about,” Marceline explained, setting a plate of no less than eight waffles in front of Bee. 

“And they’re normally about….”

Marceline said nothing, only sat down next to Bee. 

“Okay,” Bee said, sighing.

“This feels fast,” Marceline said.

“What does?” 

“I only JUST kissed you and already we’re about as domestic as you can get,” Marceline pointed out, cutting up a plain waffle.

“Is that a bad thing?” Bee asked, pouring syrup on hers.

“Absolutely not,” Marceline blinked.

“So why does it feel fast?” Bee cocked her head to the side.

“I dunno. I guess I just….” Marceline paused, “I guess I just don’t think I deserve you, is all.”

“You deserve me,” Bee said, “I think it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

“How do you figure that?” Marceline asked, slowly. 

“You’re so much braver than I am,” Bee answered, “I’m too much of a coward to stand up to people even on my bravest days.”

“You know what, though?”

“Tell me.”

“I’m also a lot angrier than you are, Bonnibel. You’re so compassionate. It’s a little uh. Intimidating,” Marceline continued.

“You give me way too much credit,” Bee scoffed. 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

“You’re very vague, too. Like you think anything you’d say would catch you in a ridiculous web of lies.”

“That’s true. I’m a lawyer’s daughter, after all,” Marceline picked at one of the squares of her waffle.

“You think compassion is intimidating?”

“Like I said, angry. Maybe compassion scares me because I don’t get to see it up close too often.”

“You’re very strange, you know that?”

“If you wouldn’t tell me, one of Jake’s kids would. Junior especially,” Marceline pointed out. 

“When does your dad come home, again?” 

“Tomorrow night. It’s a long weekend. He left me a message on the voicemail. Not that I ever check the voicemail.”

“Then how did you know that he left the voicemail?” 

“I caught it just as it was being left,” Marceline answered, “this morning. Before you woke up.”

“Ah.” They ate in silence. It was different than the silence between them and their parents. Breakfast alone with your parents was like being trapped in a glass box. This was like standing in one place, but it was your choice to this time. It was nice. They smiled at each other while they ate. They didn’t talk again until they were carrying their plates to the sink. 

“Are you sure you used enough syrup?” Marceline grimaced at the large pool of it collecting at the edge of the platter as Bonnie washed it off. 

“There is not enough syrup in the world for me,” Bee answered quickly, “sugar is most of what I can stomach nowadays anyway. My question is how could you eat your waffle plain like that?”

“Chocolate chips,” Marceline answered.

“Chocolate chips,” Bonnibel nodded.

“So what do you want to do today?” Marceline asked.

“Not school. I’m skipping if you’re skipping,” Bee groaned.

“Bee James, so scandalous!” Marceline fake gasped. 

“Whatever, my lack of care for my GPA is a direct result of your influence, and you know it,” Bee pointed out. 

“We skip school,” Marceline declared, ignoring Bee’s comment. 

“So what else?” Bee asked.

“That’s a very Bee question, asking what else there is that isn’t school,” Marceline grinned.

“You know what I mean,” Bee rolled her eyes. Marceline paused thoughtfully.

“John Hughes marathon,” she said finally. 

“John Hughes?”

“The Breakfast club, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller’s Day off, Pretty in Pink. That guy. Don’t you ever read end credits?”

“Imagine Marceline sitting through end credits just to sit through them.”

“Just to give people credit where it’s due, is all. And then also when someone asks stuff like ‘who dug the holes in the movie holes’ or ‘who was the translator for the french lyrics in songs from the princess and the frog’ you can butt in and be like Hey! I know!”

“So John Hughes marathon?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve only ever seen The Breakfast Club,” Bee admitted.

“Then we start with that, of course. Then Ferris Bueller. Since that’s fitting,” Marceline said, not missing a beat.

“Okay,” Bee sighed wistfully, “can we kiss during the opening credits if I promise to pay attention during the ending ones?”

“Bee,” Marceline wrapped her arms around her waist, “we can kiss any time you would like.”

* * *

 

The nightmares came back on the second day. Marceline had known that even love couldn’t chase her awful nightmares away. She woke up on her own, struggling to breathe. Bee was still sleeping, so she quieted her shaky lungs and got up to venture downstairs. It was still dark out. That wasn’t good. She would be tired all day long. 

“Marceline?” Bee asked.

“Did I wake you?” Marceline jumped back. 

“No,” Bee lied, “what are you doing up?”

“Nightmares,” Marceline answered, scratching her arm. Bee noticed fresh marks where her nails touched.

“Did you bite yourself in your sleep?” Bee asked.

“I wish,” Marceline laughed, “no, that’s how I grounded myself back to reality.”

“Jesus, Marceline. How serious are your nightmares?” Bee asked.

“I don’t think I can answer that without making your face do the pinched up worried thing again,” Marceline turned away. 

“Do you think, maybe, it would help if you talked about your nightmares?”

“I’ve never talked about them with anyone before.”

“That’s my point exactly.” Bee said. Marceline sighed loudly. She smiled weakly at Bee.

“I’ll try, okay?” 

“That’s all anyone can ever ask of you.” A long silence filled the air before Marceline spoke. 

“They’re about my mom,” Marceline’s voice sounded hoarse.

“Your mom?” Bee held Marceline’s face in her hand.

“Most of them, anyway. Some are nonsense, but I can always tell which ones are about her. They’re always different,” Marceline continued, “There was a clock. And I was trying to find her.”

“Oh.” Bee said, as if that explained everything, “Did something…..”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Bee said again.

“She’s been gone for….God, twelve years,” Marceline sat up in bed, “I thought the nightmares were going to fade, but they got worse. More graphic, I mean.”

“What…..” Bee trailed off, “did she leave?” Marceline stayed silent, so she added, “I don’t mean to be invasive. You just seem really, really shaken up.”

“She died,” Marceline answered finally.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was her choice,” Marceline sighed.

“Oh.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Sorry.” 

“That too.”

“Mmmph,” Bee said. She looked at Marceline for a while, studying her. Hoping to find the right thing to say within her eyes. And Marceline looked back, searching for comfort in Bee’s gaze. They stayed like that for a while.

“Heroin overdose.”

“What?” Bee asked.

“That’s how she did it. I know you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering that.” She really wasn’t. But it felt better somehow to know. Like as if Marceline wanted to talk about it, but was looking for excuses to, so she kept pressing. Gently pressing at the door Marceline had once kept locked, but now left open a crack every once in awhile. For the right people any way. For Bee. “Was she…….addicted too?”

“Not like my dad. Not after she got pregnant with me, anyway. She relapsed a couple of times after the fact though. I know because she used the same kinds of lies that dad did. Easy to see through. And she got really bad towards the end.”

“If your mom did drugs too then…...uh…..how did you know for sure it wasn’t a mistake?”

“There was a note,” Marceline answered plainly.

“Jesus, Marceline.”

“Yeah. Dad never let me read it though. Says it won’t solve anything. But I did…….the day of what happened, I got a glimpse. Dad woke me up screaming and I ran to the bathroom to see what happened. I didn’t see her, but I saw the note. And when dad saw me looking at it, he picked me up and cradled me all the way to my room. He was crying, so I was crying, but I didn’t know what happened until after the paramedics and police left.”

“Holy shit, Marceline,” Bee was holding onto her legs so tightly that her nails left imprints on her skin.

“It’s funny,” Marceline started tearing up, “I thought the nightmares were because I lost her so suddenly. And now, all of a sudden…...I’m having those dreams about you.”

“Oh, Marceline,” Bee wrapped her arms around Marceline, “you will never lose me. Not now. Not ever.”

She should have gotten that in writing.

* * *

Neither of them had wanted the weekend to end. But Hunson had to go home some time, and Bee would rather both of them not get in life altering trouble. Bee walked very unceremoniously walked out the front door to her car. She hugged Marceline like she was never going to see her again. She was pretty convinced that she was gonna go home, and that she was going to die. Not die, maybe. Something worse. Something much worse.

The rest of the day went by without incident, Hunson came home and asked Marceline how the weekend was. He made no comment on how the house was, which meant she did a good job keeping it clean. He asked her to order pizza and she did, and he headed upstairs to his room. Marceline assumed he would not say goodnight, only close his door wordlessly.

“You’re almost an adult, Marceline,” he said behind her as she entered the doorway of her own room. She turned around. Was this the college lecture or the apartment lecture or the responsibility lecture, she wondered. None of the above.

“Yeah, dad?” She turned to face him. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, with most of his suit off, still wearing his dress pants and shoes and his hair still slicked back,  but only wearing the V neck tee shirt he wore under the suit. When he talked to her like this, few talks and far in between, she thought he was going to off her like it was some kind of mafia movie. It was an irrational fear she had since about childhood. Since Simon let her watch The Godfather way too young when she was little. Thinking about the root of the fear made her miss Simon, and she did not like that one bit. 

“So, I’m not dumb. I know you have a secret boyfriend and you get stoned under the bleachers at school and you mouth off to teachers and the nudity incident is not even the tip of the iceburg of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.” He continued. He was so close, Marceline almost wanted to laugh. Except for the being offed thing. That’s what kept her look neutral.

“What about it?” Marceline asked. Denial would get her nowhere.

“I’m done punishing you like you’re going to do better under dicipline. That’s not what your mother would want. And I know that. So, keep your chin clean until your birthday next week, promise me that, and then after your birthday we can discuss living arrangements and school and…..and your mom’s letters and all that.”

“Alright,” Marceline’s grip on the doorknob tightened. Letters? Multiple? “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t say goodnight. He just gave her a stern look and went into his room. It was really sad, she realized then, how her father was just willing to let her ruin her own life as long as she wasn’t his responsibility anymore. She didn’t bother with late night movies. She had a long night of staying awake and avoiding nightmares worrying about how Bee’s parents had been. She hadn’t heard from her since Bee left, though she reflexively checked her phone every half hour. 

Marceline had been sleeping next to Bee for so many nights, that sleeping alone felt like being a ship without an anchor. The sheets in her bed felt so much colder, the fear of being woken up by screaming ever presently keeping her from sleeping soundly. Marceline thought it horrible that for the first time in a long time, she was alone when she didn’t have to be. Such a thing should be outlawed. 

At two am, she got a phone call. 

“Bee?” Marceline almost shouted, even though the number wasn’t hers.

“Yeah,” Bee whispered. 

“Where are you? What happened?” Marceline thought she was gonna die then and there.

“I’m at a payphone at the gas station where we watched the sunrise. Where you watch the sunrise. I’m livid.”

“Why are you livid?” Marceline’s heart beat like a jackrabbit’s. 

“My parents...they drove around the city trying to find me. And I don’t know how Alice knew, but she fucking ratted us out.”

“Shit,” Marceline cursed under her breath.

“That’s what I said,” Bee laughed. She sounded like she was crying, “my mother said that my behavior was already unacceptable. But now. With you….”

“Bee?” Marceline croaked.

“My parents are sending me away to a Catholic boarding school in Vermont.”

Marceline’s heart completely sank. She felt like her entire world had come crashing down. 

“How soon.” Was all Marceline could manage.

“I leave Friday afternoon,” Bee answered slowly.

“What?” Friday. Marceline’s birthday. Marceline’s fucking birthday? Really? Fucking really?

“My mom knows the headmaster and they pulled some strings to let me transfer. I’m not gonna be at school all week,” Bee took a shaky breath, “oh, Marceline, I don’t even get to say goodbye.”

“You do, though.” Marceline started crying, “you do.” 

And they stayed up all night. Talking. Trying not to say the one thing that the two of them had known for a long time. When they hung up, Marceline was more tired than she ever had been before. She was skipping school, she knew. They wouldn’t want her like this, anyway, more angry and unstable than ever.

Marceline bit her lip. There was only one way out, and it struck her like lightning. She made another phone call, this time not to Bee, begging for an answer. 

She picked up on the third ring. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been eighty four years..... Stay tuned for the final chapter! I tried to make this one mostly fluff but uh. UH. I kinda combined two much shorter chapters.


	8. The Long Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Run away, with me  
> And the poltergeists and ghouls  
> We can wander through the darkness  
> And play by our own rules  
> Run away, with me  
> To a cavern shaped like home  
> Where we'll build our own forever  
> And never dance alone

“Hello?” her voice was tired.

“Betty!” Marceline tried not to shout.

“Marceline?” she perked up, “It’s been so long. Since Christmas last year I think.”

“How’s Simon?” Marceline asked, hopeful but jaded at the possible answers.

“Better, I think. He’s singing again. He seems so...happy. It’s wonderful,” Betty said wistfully, “I remember after your mother passed away, that’s when he started thinking on the inside so much. It’s almost like….before.”

“I’m glad,” Marceline breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Now onto pressing matters, how are you holding up with your father?” Betty said father like the word alone could fill her mouth with blood. 

“Not great, that’s why I called,” Marceline explained, “he’s more….well. He hasn’t been happy in a long time, but he’s angrier now.”

“Marceline, you are an adult now, he cannot continue treating you this way. He simply can’t,” Betty sounded angry, “not that it was acceptable for him to treat you this way to begin with.”

“I know, Betty,” Marceline furrowed her brow. 

“My offer still stands, you know,” Betty sounded like she was opening a door, “I want you to come stay with us until you can afford your own apartment. Maybe after. You know that Simon could pull some strings and have your school stuff transferred, and besides that we have the space for you.”

“Oh, Betty,” Marceline couldn’t hold back her tears, “that would be wonderful, but. But-”

“What is it?” Betty asked.

“The situation is very complicated. I have. This friend. She sort of takes me in when I have to you know, escape. Her parents caught her and now they want to send her to one of those schools for troubled girls across the country and I….this is all my fault,” Marceline sobbed.

“Marceline, oh, shh. Shh. It’s alright. Is this girl eighteen?” she asked.

“She’s close. A couple weeks out,” Marceline said.

“Speaking of close, how close are you to this girl?” Betty asked.

“Do you want the honest answer?” Marceline worried her lip.

“Of course,” Betty said.

“I’m in love with her. I really am,” Marceline smiled weakly into the phone, “she’s my best friend and I’ve never felt so connected to another person. And I can’t leave her in hell while I escape to go live with you guys, I can’t.”

Betty thought for a while. The line was almost silent, and Marceline would think that she had been cut off if Betty wasn’t humming thoughtfully. 

“Do you think, and this might sound absolutely crazy, like off the butts bonkers but-wait,” she interrupted herself, “does she feel the same about you?”

“I think-I hope-She does,” Marceline said, “sometimes more than an angry person like me deserves.”

“Oh honey,” Betty smiled, “you deserve the whole world and more. Which is why….which is why I think you should ask her to come with you.”

“I could never ever put that on you,” Marceline shook her head.

“Marceline, it’s your choice. We have enough space, and I want to meet the girl that made the big bad Marceline who didn’t cry when she broke her leg falling out of a tree when she was nine cry over the phone over the prospect of losing her. She sounds like a pretty special girl,” Betty insisted.

“She’s the most special person in the world,” Marceline closed her eyes. 

* * *

 

The train left at midnight and it was 8pm when Marceline finished packing. It was a Sunday night and she still had so much to do. 

A gift basket for Jake and Lady and the kids, full of stuffed animals and special chocolates  and some stuff for Finn and a letter telling them where she would be and that she’d be safe and happy, thanking them for everything they ever did to make her hell a little less hellish. She left it on their doorstep at 9:45. She rang the doorbell and ran the other direction. 

She had written about a million rejected notes to her dad, trying not to say “I love you” even though it was true because Hunson Abadeer was a bitter, bitter man, and she didn’t think a million notes or a million I love yous would soften him. She kept the note short and detached from emotion before she slipped it through the mail slot at ten pm. She read the memorized notes over in her brain after the fact even though she couldn’t technically revise them.

* * *

 

_ Jake, Lady, and my little beasts, _

_ Thank you for everything. I never would have survived up at this point if it hadn’t been for the kindness that you have shown me. But I am an adult now, and I have to leave. Don’t be sad for me! I’ll be happy, and I hope that the universe treats you guys well, if not I’m coming back with my fists raised. I hope that the gift basket will at least partly repay you for years of being the closest to a real family I could ever get.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Marceline.  _

* * *

_ Dad, _

_ I am an adult now and no longer under your responsibility. I’ve decided to leave, and I’m taking a train at midnight. Don’t follow me. Thank you for housing me for all these years. Please take this note as a reason to be the person mom would want you to be, as that is what I’m trying for.  _

_ Your only daughter,  _

_ Marceline. _

* * *

 

She got to Bee’s house at 11:00. She climbed the fence and slid down in through the window and it felt like playing the last few months in reverse. 

“Marceline?” Bee blinked. She was sitting up in bed.

“I needed to see you,” Marceline breathed.

“Wha-” Bee looked at the bag that Marceline had slung over her shoulder, “where are you going?” 

“Away,” Marceline looked back towards the window, “to Simon and Betty’s.”

“Who?” Bee asked.

“They’re like family. More than my dad has ever been. And things get worse, and they have the room for me,” Marceline looked back towards Bee, “it should be the easiest decision that I’ve ever made. But it’s not, and I think you know the reason why.”

“I do?” Bee looked perplexed and a little mad. 

“Lately I’ve been sleeping easier. I’ve been feeling more connected to myself, to the person I think my mom would have wanted me to be. Even though I hate most of my miserable life, you make it less miserable. A lot less miserable.” Marceline said.

“Thanks. You make my life a lot more bearable too,” Bee smiled. It quickly faded, “I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“You’re leaving, too,” Marceline pointed out.

“You’re leaving first,” Bee retorted, getting out of bed, “and you are leaving for a place a lot better than a Catholic boarding school.”

“I know,” Marceline sighed. She kept trying to force herself to say it. Bee approached her and pulled her into a hug. 

“It’s just not fair,” Bee rested her chin on the top of Marceline’s head.

“Well,” Marceline took a deep breath, “what if there was a way we both could get away?”

“There is, and it sucks,” Bee laughed, “I’m really gonna miss you at Ms. Mary’s prep academy for young ladies.”

“Sounds like a real treat of a school,” Marceline stroked Bee’s hair, “I meant...what if you came with me?”

“Marceline-” Bee pulled away from the hug, “I’m not eighteen.”

“You’re about to be,” Marceline pointed out.

“But I don’t….how are you getting there without a car?” Bee blinked at her slowly.

“Train. It leaves at midnight,” Marceline said.

“I don’t have a ticket,” Bee shook her head.

“I have an extra.”

“You...how did you know you needed an extra?” Bee’s look was entirely indiscernible. 

“Well, I didn’t know, but I hoped that-”

“Marceline, did you buy an extra ticket for me before talking to me?”

“Yes,” Marceline rubbed the back of her neck. 

“I can’t believe you did that!” Bee was practically shouting, and she hoped the basement was sound proofed. 

“What?” Marceline felt a knot build in her stomach.

“You assumed that I would want to drop everything and get on a train to go live with people I have never met so much that you spent an extra however many bucks for a last minute train ticket?” 

“Bee-”

“I’ve had my whole life planned out for me, that’s why I hate it here! I thought you understood that,” Bee was shaking like a dog.

“I thought…..” Marceline hesitated, “I thought it would be romantic. Like the grand finale in a movie.”

“We aren’t in a movie! And the guys in those movies are creepy most of the time anyway,” Bee looked exasperated.

“I’m sorry,” Marceline looked down, “I guess I should go. I have a train to catch.”

“I didn’t mean to yell. I know you were trying to be sweet but I..” Bee lifted Marceline’s chin, “I can’t spend my whole life letting other people write my story for me. No matter how much I care about that person.”

“I’m. going. to. miss. you. so. much,” Marceline smiled.

“We’ll talk. We’ll find a way. We always do,” Bee brushed a strand of hair out of Marceline’s face.

“It’s a long walk to the station. I’ve got to go,” Marceline placed a hand around Bee’s.

“You sure you don’t need a ride? I can steal my car and we could have a longer goodbye,” Bee suggested.

“We talked all night. Any longer a goodbye and I might get sad and stow away in your bag to Vermont.”

“Good luck, Marceline,” Bee kissed Marceline’s forehead. It was such a gentle touch, Marceline wished she was tall enough to kiss Bee’s forehead right back.

“You too,” Marceline said, “kick that school’s ass.” She climbed out through the window one last time.

* * *

 

She was almost at the station. Her feet were tired, but there was a bed in her suite on the train. She made a promise to herself not to look back. Unfortunately, it was pretty hard to feel bad breaking a promise when the only person being let down was herself. She looked back almost once every block. And as she looked back for the last time at the crossing to the station, and she thought it couldn’t be real. Pulling up behind her was Bee’s bubblegum pink Buggie.

Marceline couldn’t quite believe it was her until she saw her face, beautiful as ever. The window was rolled down.

“I know a ride to the train station is kind of superfluous at this point, but, hey, last revenge on my parents can be me stranding the car somewhere they’d never look.”

“Bee!” Marceline ran to the car and threw her arms around Bee, “What are you-”

“I’m coming with you,” Bee explained, “I do want to write my own story, but I guess writing my own story can also mean letting someone else help a little.” 

“I love you, Bee, I really do,” Marceline tried not to tear up.

“I love you, too,” Bee smiled, “now get in, before we miss the train or you get hit by a truck.”

Marceline did as she was told. For once, she didn’t mind it.

“I guess we got our movie ending, after all,” Bee rested her head on Marceline’s shoulder as she buckled her seatbelt.

“A movie ending with a lot of suitcases. What the hell is in all of these?” Marceline asked.

“Stuffed animals. Lots of stuffed animals,” Bee answered. Marceline laughed, and Bee elbowed her in the ribs, “hey, don’t make fun. I bet you have your bear thing in your backpack.”

“Hambo. His name is Hambo. And yes, I absolutely do.” Marceline confirmed. Bee chuckled back, and they interlaced their fingers, driving off into their happy ending. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be noted, this is a fic I started when I was in a really bad mental place. my mental state got better and slowly, so did the moods and themes of the fic. I'm a ot happier now, and I hope you can see that reflected in this last chapter. I cannot believe it took me a little over a year.....  
> P. S. I just watched the finale, and may I say it was a perfect ending, and little eleven year old me would have been so excited to see this happen.   
> One last time, thanks for reading.


End file.
